


The Plot: The End

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Series: Copious Cockles [24]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: 15x18, 2020, Ackles family - Freeform, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anger, COVID, Canon Continuation, Collins family, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fear, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Humor, Kissing, Love, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Padalecki Family - Freeform, Pandemic - Freeform, Polyamory, Post-Episode AU: s15e18 Despair, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Season 15, Series Finale, Shower Sex, Singing, Slice of Life, Supernatural Set, Vaginal Sex, lockdown - Freeform, true events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 60,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: With Supernatural about to end after fifteen seasons, Jensen has high hopes for the finale, and for the future. So many exciting things lay ahead of him, and he can't wait to experience it all with the people he loves most in this world; but thanks to  2020 and the greed of the CW, he begins to realize that all his hopes—might actually be hopeless.
Relationships: Genevieve Cortese/Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/Danneel Harris, Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins, Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins/Danneel Harris, Misha Collins/Vicki Vantoch
Series: Copious Cockles [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/188132
Comments: 55
Kudos: 190





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of a larger piece of fiction. In order to follow the storyline, please read **[The Plot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795588/chapters/6274970)** as well as its other additions before moving on to this story.
> 
> *** The following includes fictional depictions of real people and real events; and although many moments in this story are true, I do not claim that everything written is factual. I have nothing but respect and love for the people and characters portrayed in this piece of fiction and hope that all who read it see how much I admire them. ***
> 
> **The stunning art included in this fic was created by the kind and talented[LiArtEz](https://liart-ez.tumblr.com). Also follow on their Instagram [@liart_ez](https://instagram.com/liart_ez?igshid=3mp8p7hu5yz8)!!!**
> 
> And a special thanks to Vi for beta-reading this fic and making sure it is as good as it possibly can be! Follow her on her tumbler at [deanandishareamoreprofoundbond](https://deanandishareamoreprofoundbond.tumblr.com)!

* * *

* * *

_Champagne? Who the fuck brought champagne to this thing?_

Jensen looks at the bottles and then up to the cameras, and then over to Jared and Misha as the two laugh and talk while making lewd gestures between one another.

He rolls his eyes. _Those two act are worse than fucking frat boys_. “You know, people can see you right?” he yells across the patio just as Jared air-humps an imaginary _something_ between his hands.

The goofy giant laughs wickedly as he sweeps his hair from his face. “Yup. Just givin’ them a show!”

“Or reasons to seek therapy” Misha teases, which results in Jared socking him in his arm. Misha lunges at him as a result—either in an attempt to hit his nuts or grab his dick, Jensen’s isn’t sure, but their shenanigans give him no choice but to go over there and break them up.

_They have a photoshoot to finish after all._

“C’mon, guys—it’s getting late and I’m sure they don’t want us wasting their light.” Jensen nods towards their ever-patient photographer, Peggy who has been shooting them all day. The woman smiles an easy-going smile, but he knows she must be exhausted by now. All their fooling around has equated to quite a bit of lost time; and even on a _good day_ , coordinating the three of them is a feat for _anyone_. He knows that, and he feels for the entire EW crew working with them on this; and he hopes they’re getting paid the overtime he and his friends are costing them.

“Alright, alright. We’ll sto— _oooh_ , champagne!” Jared says, spotting the bucket and bottles before loping towards them like a concussed gazelle.

“Whose grand idea was _that?_ ” Misha whispers, leaning into Jensen’s side and feeling far too warm and welcoming considering they’re out where people can see them.

Blood begins to rush to his middle, and Jensen chuckles nervously, shrugging while twisting his body away from prying eyes. “Dunno. Think it’s gonna be like a toast or something—to send us off.”

Misha nods, obviously not noticing Jensen stiffening up, and Jensen is grateful for it; because one, deep look from those electric blue eyes and he’d have to excuse himself and waste even _more_ daylight. Thankfully however, Jared’s incessant immaturity pulls focus, causing Misha to rush away as soon as the moose start fiddling with one of the corks. “Woah! _Hey!_ Step back from the equipment before you open that thing!”

Jared looks up at the sound of Misha’s dad-voice, seeming almost surprised to see all the people there watching him—lighting grips and set assistants, each squinting and leaning back from the inevitable champagne-shower they were about to endure.

“Give me that!” Jensen hisses a second later, having walked back to maintain his place as the _mature voice of_ _reason_ within the three of them. He grabs the bottle out of Jared’s hand and rolls his eyes. “You’re such a child.”

Proving his point, Jared sticks out his tongue and snickers, but then he’s laughing again; and his laugh makes Misha laugh, which ultimately makes Jensen laugh too—because, _how can he not?_

“Alright, guys. Ready?” Peggy asks once they all finally settle. She holds up her camera to adjust her focus as waits.

“Yup. Where do ya want us?” Jensen asks, quickly grabbing the second bottle of champagne before Jared has the chance to.

“Back towards the wall—and then move to the right so we get the light coming in on your left.”

The three of them follow her direction and then wait for more; but Peggy doesn’t say anything else. She just starts clicking away, photo after photo— until someone comes by and redistributes the champagne bottles between the three of them.

Jensen looks at his friends, figuring that the _lack_ of direction plus all these bottles means they have free-range now—which is a dangerous thing when they’re all together. If you give them even an inch of fuckery, they’ll fuck it all until the cows come home.

With bottle in-hand, Jared grins impishly, and Misha is wearing a nervous smile, obviously knowing that this is a recipe for disaster, but they both hold off as Jensen makes up his mind on what to do next. So, with one last glance between his best friends—he finally decides.

_Fuck it!_

The champagne fountains into the air, _pop after pop_ , spraying across the wall and concrete and _each other_ in a tidal wave of fizzy bubbles. The three men look up at the mist, laughing as the corks bounce away, following their joy as it echoes out to the ocean.

Eventually, most of the suds slow, but Jensen’s bottle is still spurting like a volcano; so, Jared leans forward into the overflow—which is the _perfect_ invitation for Jensen to turn the whole thing over onto his head. And he’s still cracking up about it when a blast of champagne hits him in the face from the other side, and all he can hear through the bubbles is Misha wheezing with laughter. Jensen spits out the foam and sets down his empty bottle—only to rip Jared’s half-full one from his hands and shake it, placing his thumb over the mouth until it’s spraying again, all over Misha now—splattering his grey shirt with pungent froth and darkening his jeans.

Those blue eyes crinkle as the man laughs more, and Jensen does the same—completely forgetting about the photoshoot and the world around them; that is until more bottles suddenly appear in their hands, and they can start the insanity all over again. Jensen eventually pushes his second bottle up high, telling Misha to open his mouth so he can pour some in—indulging himself a moment as he watches the champagne drip down his boyfriend’s chin and dribble down his neck. He licks his lips, wishing that he could kiss those freshly sweetened, pink ones; but then, Jared is pouring more champagne onto his head and Jensen’s momentary erotica is obliterated. Which was probably for the best because the last thing Jensen needs it photographic evidence that a _dripping-wet-Misha Collins_ gives him an erection.

Soon enough however, _they’re all_ dripping wet and elated with light hearts—and Jensen can tell he’s close to that threshold of feelings, where _happiness_ turns into _overly-grateful_ ; and it doesn’t take long before his chest wants to burst like the champagne, gushing with everything he needs to say but doesn’t know how. So, he throws an arm around Misha’s neck and pulls him in, kissing his cheek and grinning from ear to ear. “Love you” he whispers, finally hugging the man close, and Misha melts into his arms like he always does.

“I love you too— _so much_ ” he says back, but it’s just little too loud and full of feeling, and it causes his voice to crack.

Jensen pulls away again. “You alright?” he asks, cupping his hand along the side of Misha’s neck.

Misha nods—but his smile is softer now, as if something is weighing down the corners like the champagne is weighing down their clothes.

Jensen looks him over, noting the obvious shift in his demeanor, but he doesn’t have a chance to suss it out because Jared is whipping him around to hug him too.

“It’s been a hell of a ride, brother” Jared says with a quick kiss to his cheek, squeezing Jensen so hard, his back actually cracks.

But the force feels like nothing but love, and Jensen can’t help but return it—burying his face into Jared’s neck and nodding slow, wanting for the millionth time to take it all back, keep the show going, keep all of _this_ going. Of course, he knows it’s better this way—to end Supernatural on their terms before it gets completely run into the ground; but he also knows that he’ll never have moments like this again. He will never get another chance to be this comfortable, to feel this loved, to work somewhere that truly feels like a home away from home. It’s all just too much at times, and part of him want to undo what’s been done and go on for _another_ fifteen seasons—even if that meant the plot became stale and no one would watch it anymore. He’d do it for himself, he’d do it for Jared and Misha, and his _chosen family._ Jensen would have the show go on forever if it meant always being this happy.

“Alright, guys! I think we got our shots!” Peggy exclaims, sounding equal parts sad and relieved, and Jensen empathizes. “That’s a wrap on Supernatural’s final EW shoot!”

Applause and cheers erupt around them, and Jensen and Jared stand together with their arms around each other’s waists, smiling at everyone and thanking them for the hard day’s work. Eventually, they break apart to give out even more hugs. Afterall, they’ve known a lot of these people for years. With all the other photoshoots and interviews they’ve done, their list of friends has extended far beyond the perimeter of the SPN set.

Another few minutes of chit chat pass them by, and Jensen finishes up thanking Peggy before turning back to find a towel. He’s feeling rather sticky now that the champagne is starting to dry; but as he looks for one, he sees Misha walking off around the corner of the overhang. Jensen quickly looks to Jared—who’s deep in conversation with the producer of the shoot. The guy _probably_ won’t notice if he goes after Misha; so, Jensen forgets about the towel in order to follow his boyfriend. But once he steps around the side of the wall, he sees Misha leaning against the pink stucco, wiping his eyes and sniffling—telling himself to “ _stop freaking out_ ” as sour champagne drips onto the pavement.

“Mish?” Jensen says.

His voice makes Misha jump and snap his watery gaze to Jensen before snapping it back the other direction, eventually turning away in an effort to hide himself. “ _I’m fine._ Just …” he chuckles dryly, “just _overwhelmed_ , ya know?”

Jensen walks closer, reaching out to put his hand on Misha’s shoulder; but that only causes the guy to break down completely, sobbing into his palms as he slides down the wall. Jensen drops with him—his hand falling from Misha’s shoulder, to his knee—as if touching him enough would keep him from breaking even more. “ _Babe_ …” he whispers, scooting in closer to lean his forehead against Misha’s temple, “this doesn’t seem like you’re _just_ overwhelmed. What’s wrong?”

Misha shrugs as his cries soften, and he clears his throat, doing his best to compose himself—but little sobs still wrack through his body like ill-timed hiccups. Each one, making Jensen’s heart _ache_. “I just …” he sniffs, wiping his eyes with the palm of his hand, “I just don’t want to lose this.”

Jensen nods, because he _was_ thinking the exact same thing, but he knows that that can’t be the _only thing_ that’s bothering Misha. The guy rarely ever cries like this, not unless something is _really, really wrong_. “I know, but – with or without the show, _you got me_. You got me and you got Jared, and we’re not goin’ anywhere.”

Misha forces a smile, but it’s still heavy with thoughts, unspoken. “Yeah. I’m just being stupid. I’m fine, I promise.”

Jensen leans in a little so he can kiss the side of Misha’s head. “Mish …” he tries again, “are you sure there’s noth—”

“Where’d you guys go?”

Jared’s _voice_ makes them both jump this time, and Jensen is immediately twisting around to glare down the intrusion. “Just needed a minute” he grits out, darting his eyes back towards Misha, trying to silently inform their friend that they want some privacy.

“I’m fine, Jensen” Misha grunts, clearing his throat hard before hoisting himself up—and its eerie how calm he sounds all of a sudden.

Jensen pulls himself up as well, slowly meeting Misha’s eyes—stepping close so he can keep things quiet. “You sure?”

Misha stares back at him, unblinking and stern. “I’m sure. Like I said, I was just overwhelmed.” And with that, he steps away from him and walks off, past Jared and back around the corner until he’s completely out of sight.

Something goes sour in Jensen’s gut. _What is going on with him?_

And Jared seems to read his mind. “Dunno” he mutters with a shrug, and then turns on his heel to follow Misha back to the production set.

Jensen sighs. He knows that when Misha gets like this—it’ll be pulling teeth to get him to admit what’s really going on. _I should text Vicki_ , he thinks abruptly, knowing that she’s the best person to go to in times like these. A second longer and he’s nodding to himself, deciding for certain that that’s what he’ll do.

Well … he’ll go to the hotel and take a shower, and then— _that’s what he’ll do_.

***

“He’s fine” Vicki writes back, almost too quickly considering the lengthy text that Jensen had written to her, and he _never_ writes lengthy texts.

“I don’t think…” he begins to type, but he’s already annoyed with it so instead, he hits the “call” button and soon has Vicki on the line. “You didn’t see him, Vick. He was _completely_ breaking down.”

The woman sighs into the phone—she sounds tired. Jensen can hear Maison and West bickering in the background, and can only imagine the havoc those two have been reaping while Misha’s been away. With three kids of his own at home, he knows how exhausting it all can be. “Jensen, the end of the show is hitting him hard. It’s hitting all of you hard. This is a big part of your lives that’s coming to an end, and that will bring on a lot of emotions.”

“Yeah— _I know_ , but this seemed like _more_ than that. This seemed almost as bad as when Sarah died.”

“It’s not _that_ bad” Vicki corrects.

“So, you’ve noticed it too then?” Jensen says, feeling his heart begin to race. “He’s been like this at home?”

Vicki sighs once more, longer now and more defeated. “ _Yes_ … but it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be. He truly _is_ upset about the show ending and losing this part of his life. You have to remember, he has so much more invested in regards to the show than you or Jared do. His charity work, GISH, all his efforts to change things politically, they all, _in a way_ – hinge on his relation to this show. So, with Supernatural ending, it feels like more than just a ‘chapter of his life’ coming to a close, he feels like he’s going to have to start a whole new book, and that’s a lot. It’s a lot for him to think about.”

“Oh …” Jensen whispers, feeling knocked back by everything the woman just told him, so he falls onto the hotel bed with a _thud_. “I guess … yeah … I guess that makes sense.”

“He just needs time, so give that to him. And I’m sure—once he’s had a chance to organize his thoughts, he’ll talk it all through with you; but it’s hard for him to do that right now.”

“Why?” Jensen asks—panicked. “He knows he can talk to me about anything.”

“I love you, Jensen—but you have to know that’s not true” Vicki chides, and it leaves Jensen gob smacked.

“What the hell does that mean?”

The woman sighs a third time, but it’s sounding fairly annoyed now. “Jensen—you _are_ Dean Winchester. This is your show, _your life_ in a way, and it’s completely understandable that you’d be protective over it.”

“ _Okay …?_ ”

“Okay, so—trying to talk to you about certain things that involve the show, well, let’s just say … it doesn’t always lead to a fruitful conversation.”

Jensen stammers, mouth flapping as his brain whirls around her words, trying to make sense of them. “I have—I have no clue what the hell you’re talking about.”

Vicki _groans_ into the phone now, and the noise makes everything static and crackle. “Jensen, I’m sorry. I’m tired and I don’t think I have the will power to discuss this anymore.” With one last sigh, her voice softens. “I love you. I love how passionate you are, and I love how much you love my husband; but I need you to promise me something—I need you to promise even without any more context or information … you just need to promise and to trust me, okay?”

Jensen swallows thickly, _uneasy_ but he knows he doesn’t have much choice here. “Okay … _um_ … _I guess_. What is it?”

Vicki’s voice is smooth, low and more serious than Jensen has ever heard before. “I need you to promise to be _open_. You need to listen and be open to anything and everything that might come up in the next few months, okay? And I know you might not want to, but you need to _wait_ until Misha is ready to talk. You need to leave him be and let him come to you; and when he does, I need you to listen and be open to what he has to say. Can you do that? Not for me, but … can you do that for _him?_ ”

Jensen wants to ask _why_? He wants to ask a million more questions to find out what all this is about, even if it takes all night, but he knows Vicki won’t go for that, and something tells him that even if she did stay on the line, she probably wouldn’t really tell him anything anyway, because she wants Misha to do it, and he needs to respect that. So, he just nods against his phone, taking a page out of her book and letting out a long, heavy sigh. “Okay, _yeah_. I can do that” he whispers, finally saying goodnight and allowing the exhausted woman to hang up and go to bed.

***

Danneel flips through the pages one more time, amber eyes skimming over the words—skipping back and forth through more worry.

“It’s bullshit, isn’t it?” Jensen growls, but his wife stays silent; so, he pulls himself off his stool and begins to pace around their kitchen island. “I can’t get my head ‘round why they’d want to do it like this?”

It’s been four months since the EW shoot and Misha still hasn’t opened up about what’s been bothering him, and Jensen has tried to let it go—albeit, unsuccessfully; but leave it to the Supernatural writers to finally give him a worthwhile distraction.

“Did you ask them?” Danneel says in a calm contrast to Jensen’s whirling fire.

“No!” he yells, spinning to face her with his hands on his hips. “I didn’t know what the fuck to say! It was just like the meeting we had in the summer all over again, only _worse_ because now they’re giving us specifics and fuckin’ _written scripts_ that they obviously put a lot of time into; so they were just _staring_ at me waiting for me to agree with them!”

His wife glares at him.

He sighs. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just … I’m fuckin’ _pissed_. And _confused_ … and I want to know why they think they can just screw up the show this way?”

Danneel huffs a breath through her nose and purses her lips, finally standing up from the armchair she’d been sitting in. With a few graceful strides, she’s by her husband’s side and stroking his arm—and like magic, Jensen’s heartbeat slows. “Babe—call Singer, or call Kripke again, talk it out. And then see if you can get another meeting to try and figure out if there’s still a way to change some things. This isn’t the first time you’ve disagreed with the direction of the story.”

Jensen grumbles. “Yeah, but this is the _end_ of that story, and I’m worried they’re gonna fuck it all up.”

His wife nods, but she’s still stands steady in front of him. “I know, and they might. As much as that’ll suck—they may very well do that, but you’ll feel a lot worse about it if they do and you did nothing to try and change their minds.”

Jensen sighs again, suddenly remembering his and Vicki’s conversation after the photoshoot. She was right, he _does_ get overly protective with this show— _his show_ ; but, could anyone blame him in this case? With a groan, he hinges in a middle so he can lean against Danneel’s shoulder, the way he always does whenever life blindsides him.

The woman chuckles and then runs her hand through his hair, eventually kissing his temple and making him feel like he could just drift off to sleep right here and now, because all this worry has completely exhausted him. Between Misha and the finale script, and all the other big moments headed his way, he’s not sure how he’s going to handle it all. “I also think you should call Misha. He’s probably pretty upset about this too.”

Jensen’s ears perk up—quickly followed by his head, wondering for a second if he was thinking out loud. “ _Huh?_ ” he asks, staring at her quizzically.

Danneel scrunches up her nose at him before lifting the thin folder containing the preliminary finale script.

Jensen can only shrug at it. “ _Okay_ … he wasn’t in the room when they were handing out the drafts though. He probably doesn’t know anything about it yet; he just knows the pitch—not all the crappy details in _this_ _thing_.” He flicks the folder in her hand and grimaces at it as if he can physically smell its stink. “And in any case, why would _he_ be upset? Sounds like he’s the only one of us getting a Supernatural-worthy ending.”

“Did you even pay attention to what you were reading, Jen? Misha won’t _be in_ the finale.”

Jensen’s mouth falls open. “Wh—wait, _what?_ ”

Dani nods, eyes wide.

Jensen grabs the papers back from her and begins to flip through them one more time. “No! That’s not right—I saw his name. Towards the end … the brothers talk to Cas.”

“No … they just talk _about_ him. It doesn’t look like he’s actually _there_ though.”

Jensen slowly peels his eyes up from the typeface, feeling a deep sense of dread begin to boil in his stomach. “ _They wrote him out?_ ”

Danneel bites her lip. “Looks that way.”

“Mommy!” Arrow shrieks, running into the kitchen—closely followed by Zepp who’s chasing his twin sister with an inflatable baseball bat and bopping her on the head with it. “Mommy!” she shrieks again, crying with frustration.

Danneel turns and laughs, quickly scooping their daughter up into her arms before snatching the bat from Zepp’s hands and turning the attack on _him_.

The boy giggles excitedly as he shields his head and runs away, and soon Arrow is giggling too—now that she’s got _mommy_ , her knight and protector on her side; and the three of them go running out of the room in a whirlwind of laughter and fun—leaving Jensen alone to stew in his worry and guilt.

He never thought—not in a million years, that they’d leave Misha out of the finale. He has become such a huge part of the show, _hell,_ he _saved_ the show—yet, Dabb is alright with just tossing him aside? Jensen hates it, and he hates that he didn’t even realize it the first twenty times he read the proposal; and he really, really hates that when he sat at that table listening to Dabb and Singer discuss this ending again and again, both of them conveniently _failed_ to mention that Misha _wouldn’t_ be there. Although, now that Jensen’s thinking back… he should’ve noticed something was off. Hell, he should’ve suspected it back in June when they had first gone into the writers’ room to hear the initial pitch. Bob kept talking about “coming full circle” and Andrew kept saying things like: “The network wants the brothers to be focus again” but, Jensen had thought that at this point in the series— _“the brothers”_ meant Castiel too. They’ve called him as much in the show, so—really, it’d just make sense that Cas would be there _with_ Sam and Dean. Of course, Jensen knew they were going to have Cas sacrifice himself for the cause; but this is _Supernatural._ Nobody ever _stays_ dead _._ He was certain they’d have the boys rescue him right at the end so they could all watch the curtain fall together.

That’s how it’s _supposed_ to be; but, that’s not how it is— and he begins to wonder if Misha actually _does_ know about all this, and maybe _that’s_ what’s been eating at him all this time. Maybe he was pulled aside months ago and warned about the plans to cut his time on the show short; and if _that’s_ the case, Jensen is sickened that the guy doesn’t feel like he can open with him about it. Then again, it wouldn’t be characteristic of the writers to warn them about _anything …_ _ever_ ; so, he could still be way off the mark. Jensen closes his eyes and lets out a breath; he’s tired and angry, and far too confused for his own good, and with all of it clashing together in his mind, he feels like the world really _is_ ending now … but Vicki was wrong. He’s _not_ Dean Winchester, and there’s not any last-minute miracle for him to conjure.

***

“Eric—what the hell?” Jensen asks the moment Kripke answers the phone.

Eric sighs into the receiver. “Hi, Jensen.”

Jensen grumbles a frigid greeting under his breath.

“So, I’m assuming this is about the ending again?”

“Of course it’s about the fucking ending! Why else would I be calling?”

“Don’t know—thought maybe you were just calling to say _hi._ Silly me.”

Jensen feels bad for a second, but then he looks down at the script on his desk and all those feelings instantly disappear. “Aren’t you pissed about this too? They’re taking _your_ show and throwing it off a damn cliff!”

Eric stays quiet a moment as Jensen walks across his office to sit on the couch, but he’s just too agitated, so he immediately springs back up and begins to pace the room. “Look—Jensen, like I told you the first time we talked about this … it’s not necessarily how _I_ would’ve ended it; but you probably wouldn’t have liked my ending either, and we’d still be having this conversation.”

“I know it’d be better than _this_ crap!”

“Jensen…”

“Talk me through it one more time, man. Why? Why _this?_ I mean, I know you think I’m too close to it—to the character, and _yeah_ … _I am_ ; however, I tried to step back from everything and really see it from the fans’ perspective. And, I got to the point where I _could_ accept it … but it was easier when it was nothing but summaries and overviews. But _now_ … seeing it actually written out like this? Seeing what they want me to say, what they want me to do? I don’t get it! So, _please_ —tell me why it has to be this way!”

“Why do you think?”

Jensen stops pacing and stares vacantly across the room—out the window to the beautiful day outside. He shrugs as if Eric can see him.

Eric sighs once more before going on. “ _Money_ , Jensen … it’s about the money.”

“What the fuck do you mean— _money_?” Jensen growls, feeling angrier and angrier as this conversation continues.

“They held focus groups— _the network_. They walked through different scenarios to see what landed and what didn’t, and then they compared all that to current profits and ratings, and found that playing it safe and leaning toward a more _traditional_ TV ending would have the most longevity and therefore, be the most profitable.”

Jensen can hardly believe what he’s hearing. The role he’s been playing most of his life—his life’s work, is getting steamrolled for a _few measly dollars?_ “You can’t be serious.”

“Sadly, I am.”

“So…” Jensen is trying to wrap his head around all this. He’s trying to understand how a _bad_ ending will make more money than the _right_ _one_ , one where Dean finds actual peace _alongside_ his brother and his best friend … which, makes him think of Misha. “So, is it profitable to leave Misha out too?”

Eric doesn’t say anything.

So Jensen fills the silence for him. “’Cause, I don’t know if you recall, but he basically _saved_ your show. He’s the only reason this thing is still on and making these assholes their money!”

“Hey—I’m one of those _assholes,_ alright?”

Jensen is usually nicer than this, but he can’t find it within himself this time. “You didn’t use to be!”

“Jensen …” Eric tries again—voice as calm as ever, “I know you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad, Eric … I’m fucking _livid!_ ”

“Even so … the network and the owners, they all found that the way to keep this show re-running for years to come, is to bring it back to the brothers. I wasn’t thrilled when I heard their plans for Misha either, but Misha _is_ getting his moment, so it’s not like he simply _disappears_.”

“His moment is just him _dying!_ ”

Eric is quiet again.

“Man _, fuck this_.”

“Jensen. I don’t think you can fight this one. You know how these things go. It comes down to the dollars, and that’s what drives decisions in this business … _not_ _the art_ ; and not the hurt feelings of the actors portraying the art.”

“Yeah, well—I’m gonna try anyway. I still love this show, even if they don’t … even if _you_ don’t anymore!”

“Jen—”

But Jensen hangs up on him, and he’s dialing up Andrew a second later.

“Jensen! My man! So—tell me, what’d ya think? Obviously, we are still working on all the de—”

Jensen grits his teeth, ready to throw his fucking phone against the wall. “We need another meeting!”

***

He booked his flight for the next morning. He has some audio to redo at the studio by Friday, so the emergency meeting Dabb scheduled was set to happen just before that. And even though that means Jensen still has a few days before he _needs_ to be in Vancouver, he also knows he needs time to compose himself before he meets with all the network big-wigs. There’s something about sitting at those oversized tables with all the swivel chairs full of old men in suits that makes him feel like a dumb, little kid; but he can’t afford to be scared into silence this time, not when it’s _this_ important.

“Hey, man” Jared says, walking into his office like he owns the place. He’s holding his rough draft of the finale script and gently thwacks Jensen on the back with it. “You get through this thing yet?”

Jensen spins around in his chair and scoffs. Jared was in the writer’s room with him yesterday—they flew back together, but they didn’t really talk much the entire time. Not about the prospective script for the finale or anything else. It was just like after their _first_ meeting back in June—before filming for the final season began. They were both too overwhelmed with the reality that their show was ending to discuss each other’s opinions; and they have both seemed to expertly dodge the topic in the months that followed. No matter the scenes they were shooting or the interviews they had to sit through together—when it came to _really_ talking about the end with one another, neither Jensen or Jared seemed capable of bringing it up. So, when it came to his thoughts on the finale itself—Jensen hadn’t asked, and Jared hadn’t said. “Yeah, about twenty times already.”

With a snort, Jared plops himself down on the leather couch, lanky limbs making him look like a spider—perched on the edge of the cushions. “Yeah. _Same_. It’s different actually seeing it in print. It’s good though, right?”

Jensen begins to nod, and then stops—realizing what Jared had actually said _._ “Wait… what? You … you _like it?_ ”

Jared gathers his brows together and hunches his shoulders up. “ _Um_ , well … _yeah_. Why? Don’t you?”

 _Shocked_ , Jensen’s mouth falls open. Deep down, he was certain they’d be on the same page about this … _they usually were with the important stuff._ “No! _Fuck no!_ And I can’t believe you do!”

Jared cowers a little, visibly anxious over the landmine he just stepped on. “Shit, dude. _Sorry!_ I just, I thought it sounded good is all.”

Jensen sighs, rubbing his hand over his face to try and wipe away some of his frustration. He’s tired and he’s upset, but that’s no excuse to take things out on Jared. “No, _I’m_ sorry. I just thought you’d be with me on this one.”

The other man shrugs, eyes wide and worried. “ _Um_ —well, I just … I guess, tell me what you don’t like about it. Maybe I’m missing something.”

Jensen half-smiles, knowing that Jared hates contradicting him; but he also knows that when it comes to this show and the scripts, Jared often favors the brothers’ solo-storylines. It’s not that he doesn’t like the rest of it, but when it comes to how he gets to work within the canon—the show he likes to put on, involves the traditional Sam and Dean arc _;_ and that’s never really been a big deal … until now. “Look, if you like it, _that’s fine._ I just …” Jensen sighs, “I still don’t feel like it’s ending the story how it should.”

Jared nods, leaning forward and looking less tense now. “Alright, so—how _should_ it end?”

“With _Misha_ for one!” Jensen spits, feeling furious all over again.

Jared just shifts awkwardly in his seat, and Jensen can read him like a book.

“ _What?_ ”

Jared shrugs.

Jensen’s face is turning red now—he’s losing his patience. “Man, just spit it out.”

His friend bites his lip and then looks down at his hands, twisting his wedding ring around his finger over and over. “I—I dunno, man. I just like the idea of it coming back to you and me, ya know? Just Sam and Dean against the world.”

“But it’s not gonna be _Sam and Dean_ against the world! That’s the point! If it was, that would be better!” Any fragments of patience he had left have now evaporated into the ether. “I know that’s how they made it sound during the initial pitch. But instead, it’s gonna be dead-Dean, lonely-Sam, and then … _what?_ They live happily ever in heaven? What the fuck even is that? This isn’t some bullshit Disney movie, Jared! This is the fucking show that shaped our lives! It got _you_ a wife! It got me my best friend in the whole world, and it got me _Misha!_ And I can’t believe you’re ready to just spit in the face of all that! God! What the fuck—”

Some rustling catches his attention and he whips around to see JJ peeking in from behind the doorframe of his office. Her eyes are wide and she looks scared.

Jensen feels sick to his stomach. “ _Jaybird_ ” he mutters, rushing over to kneel in front of her in the hallway.

“Why are you mad at Uncle Jared?” she whispers, peeking back in as Jared sighs heavily on the couch.

Jensen _hates_ himself right now. “No, no—baby, I’m not mad at him. I promise.”

“You’re yelling at him and using bad words.” Her big eyes brim with tears and it breaks Jensen’s heart completely in two.

He gathers her in his arms and squeezes her tight. “Baby, _no_ … I’m mad about something else, but I shouldn’t be yelling like that, and I _definitely_ shouldn’t be using bad words. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay” she sniffs, but she’s already crying into his shoulder.

“Aw, sweetheart…” He stands up, pulling her up with him so he can go find Danneel, but before he walks off, he looks back in on Jared and gives him a sad smile, and Jared returns it—both silently agreeing that they’ll put a pin in this for now. “Let’s go find mommy, okay?”

JJ nods against him as she wraps her little arms around his neck, and he hugs her closer for it—feeling like no problem in the world, no bad ending, no poorly written characters, could ever hurt him more than seeing his daughter scared; and it helps put things into perspective. No matter how all this plays out—his kids, Danneel, Misha, Vicky, and Jared and Gen … they’ll all still be here for him when everything is said and done, and he’s thankful that the show has brought him _that much_. No matter the ending, it’s given him that gift.

When he gets back to his office, Jared has helped himself to some whiskey, and he’s sipping on it while flipping through the proposed-finale one more time.

“Hey, man.”

Jared looks up at him and raises his glass, and then pulls another around and slides it to Jensen. Jensen takes the tumbler and tosses it back—hissing with the burn as it sloshes down his throat. Jared huffs a laugh an raises his eyebrows. “This shit’s really got you twisted up, doesn’t it?”

Jensen sighs before setting the glass down again and falling back into his chair. “Yeah—it really does.”

“How’s JJ?”

“She’s alright. Don’t think she’s ever heard me yell like that though—so it freaked her out.”

“Yeah.” Jared leans back against the couch. “Know how _that_ is. I remember one time, Tom heard me freaking out over the busted lawnmower. It—”

“Cracked and was spraying gas everywhere? Yeah. I remember when that happened” Jensen laughs, recalling how Jared thought it was gonna blow up and had a major freak out about it. He actually called the fire department and everything.

Jared snorts wryly. “Yeah, well… I was panicking and swearing up a storm, and I didn’t know if it was safe or not, but then I see _Tom_ walking towards me because he wanted to know what was happening, and I just flipped. I started screaming at him to get inside, and—I scared the shit out of the poor kid. I had to spend the rest of the day whispering and tiptoeing everywhere because he was so anxious around me.”

Jensen didn’t know that part of the story. His smile falls. “Was he okay?”

“Yeah—yeah, man. He was fine; but he was only like four at the time, so hearing me flip out like that … and then direct it at _him_ , he thought I was going insane.” Jared takes another slow slip of his drink. “Worst part about it was—I realized in that moment, my kids didn’t even really know me.”

Jensen pulls his ears back, narrowing his eyes on best friend. “What do you mean?”

Jared sighs. “We work _a lot_ , man. And especially then—we were doing so many conventions and interviews. I mean, obviously that kept us away from our families, and it sucked … but it wasn’t until I saw that my son was actually _afraid_ of me because he didn’t see me enough to know any better, that I realized I couldn’t keep going on like that.”

With a gulp, Jensen thinks back—he thinks back to when Jared first told him the story about the lawnmower. They were on their way to Rome, and then it wasn’t too long after they got there, that Jared had to go back home. “That was what your panic attack was about?”

Jared nods.

“I thought … I mean, you told me that you were having a hard time with all the travel, but I didn’t … why didn’t you tell me it was really about your kids?” Jensen feels like crap—a crap dad, and now a crap best friend.

“Because, I didn’t want to say it out loud. I hated myself for… well, for so many things; but mostly for not being with my family. I promised myself a long time ago that I was never gonna be _that_ _dad_. I wanted to be there. I wanted them to know that no matter what, I was one of the two people in their lives they could depend on for anything; but seeing that look in Tom’s eyes … seeing him cower when I got close to him, it ripped me apart inside, and I couldn’t just turn around and go back to work like nothing happened.”

“ _Shit_ ” Jensen whispers, unsure of what else to say.

“And … I dunno, maybe … maybe that’s why I like this finale.” He taps on the script with the bottom of his glass. “It’s familiar and it’s—well, _it’s_ _easy_. I know how to play that character, and I can play it well. I can wrap my head around it and I won’t need to question all my choices as _Sam_. I can do this quick and I can do this right, and I can feel good about it when they yell that final ‘cut’. And when I go home to my kids at the end of the day, I’ll know who I am and they’ll know me too. But, man _… I_ _get_ why it’s not be the direction you wanted to go. It’s not really the ‘Blaze of Glory’ ending you’ve always thought it would be, and I know that the fact that Misha won’t be there is a big deal for you.”

Jensen feels bits of his anger spike up in his gut again with the mention of Misha’s name, but he keeps his cool this time. “It’s _not_ a big deal for you?”

The other man sits up straight, obviously steeling himself for what he’s about to say—and it makes Jensen feel even worse that he’s created such a toxic atmosphere with all this that his best friend feels nervous to tell him his opinion. Just like Misha’s nervous to talk to him too, apparently.

_Shit, how crappy of a person is he?_

Jared clears his throat. “I just don’t see it as really being about _him_. Not in this final episode, not at the end of this road. Don’t get me wrong—I love the guy, _you know I do_. And I know how important he is to the show; but I just see something poetic about ending it how it started, with _just_ Sam and Dean. I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel about it.”

Jensen closes his eyes, seeing Jared’s point on the surface-level; and he can see how the man might feel that way, but he knows that no matter how much sense he can make of it, it still feels like a betrayal, and that will never sit right with him. “I get it. I do; but I have to disagree, and I want you to know—I already scheduled another meeting with Dabb and the network execs to see if some things can be changed.”

His glass clinks against the table as he sets it down, but Jared doesn’t quite let go of it yet; instead, he spins it between his fingers watching the last dregs of whiskey swirl around the bottom. “Alright. If that’s what you have to do, you do it; but … I can’t be there with you, man.”

Something about the way he says it makes Jensen feel sick, and now he hates this script even more—because nothing has ever driven a wedge between him and Jared; not any other disagreement, not any other fight they’ve had over the years has kept them from standing together when it mattered, and _this_ _mattered._ But Jensen chokes down his objections and nods. “Okay” he whispers, sitting back in his chair while letting the silence mix in with the whiskey; but Jensen is anything _but_ _okay_ and they both know it.

“Alright, well … I’m gonna go. Gen wanted me back to help her pack for her trip.”

“She’s still going up to her mom’s?”

Jared stands. “Yeah. The kids are really excited, but she’s nervous about traveling with all three of them by herself.”

“Don’t blame her” Jensen says, knowing that they’re both trying to lighten the mood, but it’s just a bit too heavy this time.

“Yeah—well, I’ll see you later, man.” And with that, Jared begins to walk out of the room, but Jensen stands in front of him just before he can leave.

“Wait—wait, I’m sorry. I don’t like this … not any of it.”

Jared gives him a weak smile. “I know you don’t, but I also know that when you get a bug up your ass, you can’t stop scratchin’ until you get it out.”

“Awesome imagery, man. Thanks for that” Jensen grimaces.

“No problem” Jared laughs, but his body is still rigid.

And Jensen sighs, finally lifting his arms to his friend. “C’mere.” They embrace just long enough for the tension to start to drip away; but Jensen knows the bulk of it’s still there. “Love you, brother” he mutters into the collar of Jared’s shirt.

“Love you, too” but he doesn’t look him in the eye when they pull apart; and soon—Jared is out the door and out of sight, and feeling out of Jensen’s reach for the first time in fifteen years.

***

“I’m so sorry, Mish.”

Misha laughs automatically, and then he hums into the phone. “ _Hm?_ What for, Jensen? Did you have a sex-dream about Michael B. Jordan again? I already told you— _I get it_. He’s an extremely attractive man.”

“ _Misha_ …” Jensen says, hating that he can’t even find it within himself to laugh at that. His anger is too thick and it’s coating everything.

Misha’s tone instantly sobers. “What is it? What happened?”

He sighs, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “They—they gave us the first drafts of the final script.”

“And?” Misha asks, sounding fairly anxious now.

_He doesn’t know._

Jensen is sure that Misha doesn’t know about any of it; and even though he’s happy to narrow down the list of all the reasons Misha might be closed off, he hates that _he_ has to be the one to break this to him. All of a sudden, Jensen finds that he’s choking back tears—overwhelmed with reality and heartbroken over the inevitable. More than likely, he won’t be hearing Misha’s voice during that final shoot. There’s hardly been a week in the past decade that he and Misha hadn’t spoken; but when they begin filming those last scenes—Jensen knows that he won’t be able to call the man if he’s not there, because if he does, he’ll never get through it. “You’re not … I mean, _Cas_ —he’s not in the finale.”

There’s nothing but silence as Jensen’s heavy heart pounds in his ears.

“Mish?”

“Sorry. Just … just processing.”

“I’m gonna fight it” Jensen yelps immediately, his voice strangled with anger, as well as _hurt_ for his boyfriend. “I swear, I’m gonna fix this.”

“ _Jensen_ …”

“No … _babe_ , you deserve to be there! Hell, you deserve it more than any of us at this point! You’re the only reason they still have a fucking show to shoot!”

Misha sighs and it’s like a sedative hand on Jensen’s chest—calming his heart and shushing his nerves. “Jensen. I love you—I absolutely adore you for wanting to fight for me, but I can’t have you throwing elbows in the writer’s room on my behalf.”

“But—”

“Let’s meet up for dinner, okay? You’ll be flying up soon, right? I wanted to spend some time together anyway before my surgery; so, let’s go meet up at our spot and talk this through.”

Jensen wipes his eyes with the back of his hand as he nods. “Yeah—yeah okay. I’m _uh_ , I’m actually flying up tomorrow. I got a meeting with Dabb and the network in a few days, so I wanted to get there early to prep.”

“A meeting? About the finale?”

Jensen’s cheeks tint red. “Yeah. I told you I was gonna fight it.”

“Yes, you did—I just didn’t realize you already _started_ the battle.” The cadence of Misha’s words shift low to where they’re rumbling through the phone like thunderclouds of concern.

“I just can’t sit around and wait for them to ruin this, Mish. I gotta do something.”

There’s a pause, then a sigh, and Jensen can practically see those sad blue eyes soften for him. “Alright. I understand.”

“It probably won’t do any good anyway” Jensen offers quickly. “I doubt they’ll change anything no matter how much I complain.” He feels at odds with himself now; but he knows Misha hates it when people make a fuss over him. This isn’t just about _him_ though, it’s about the entirety of it—and Jensen knows he can make the man see that once they’re face to face. “But yeah—let’s meet for dinner. I really want to see you and tell you everything.”

“You said you’re coming up tomorrow?” Misha asks after another pause, obviously holding back his thoughts for the sake of making plans.

“Yeah. My flight should get in around five.”

“That’s perfect then. How about we meet for dinner first and then I’ll come stay at the condo with you for a few days?”

“You sure you have time for that? Don’t you have to be in Chicago soon?”

Misha chuckles affectionately. “My flight leaves Tuesday morning, so that’ll give me plenty of time to get ready for the surgery Wednesday.”

“But what about Vick and the kids? I thought you’d want to be with them right now.”

“They’re meeting me in Chicago. Besides, they’ve had me all month—they’re pretty sick of me at this point.”

“But—”

“Jensen … we _both_ need this, okay? Stop fighting me and just accept it.”

“O—okay.” And the thought of some uninterrupted alone-time with his man makes Jensen feel lighter than he has all day, so he nods again. “Yes, that actually sounds really, really, good.”

“Good” Misha says firmly. “You just can’t dream about Mr. Michael B while I’m there, alright? I can’t handle feeling so inadequate.”

Jensen snorts a laugh as he sniffs up the rest of his tears. “You’re so dumb.”

“And you’re dumber.”

“Can’t argue there.”

“I love you, hun.”

“Love you too, Mish. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Misha’s smile sings through the phone and it holds Jensen’s crumbling pieces together like glue. “I can’t wait.”

***

He stands outside, washed in the night and the streetlamp-glow, breathing in the crisp air and wondering how many more of these moments he’ll really get to have; and his heart breaks, because the moon screams the answer: _not many._

Jensen sighs and then looks at the watch Misha gave him all those years ago, smiling at the shining face, remembering Misha’s face as Jensen unwrapped it. It was so full of love, his eyes— _so blue_ , cheeks scrunched in a smile. Jensen sighs again, realizing that he completely forgot to read the time because he was so lost in the memory.

_Ten past._

Misha is late, which is not necessarily uncommon, but it frustrates Jensen all the same. He misses the guy— _so why the hell is he making him wait so long?_

“Hey, sorry! I lost track of time” Misha says from somewhere behind him. Jensen flips around—annoyance disappearing completely the second he sees Misha’s face again.

He doesn’t say a word. He just gathers the man in his arms and holds him tight, and Misha squeezes him back, and they stay that way a few seconds too long for being out in public, but there aren’t many people around and thankfully, no one really seems to care; so Jensen holds on until his boyfriend _makes_ him pull away.

“Shall we go in?” Misha asks, finally moving towards the door of the restaurant.

Jensen nods and follows him; and as soon as they’re both inside, they’re being ushered to a quiet table in the back. “Thank you” he says to the hostess as she set down their menus and turns around to leave.

Misha nods to her as well as he sits himself down at the corner closest to Jensen. If it were anywhere else, they’d probably sit across from each other so they didn’t raise suspicion, but this was _their_ place and they felt safe here. “I’m so glad we got to do this” he says after they’re both settled with their menus in hand. “I feel like it’s been months since I last saw you.”

“ _A_ month” Jensen corrects, leaning in a little to press his knee against Misha’s underneath the table. “A month since our last scene together and a month too long.”

“No kidding.”

The man’s skin looks soft, and his lips are begging to be kissed; but Jensen holds himself back, knowing that they will get their chance to _truly_ reconnect tonight. So for now, he just needs to eat and drink and unwind from the long trip here.

They place their drink orders and keep the conversation light until they’re served and their waiter is informed of what they want for dinner; but once they know they’d be uninterrupted for a while—Misha’s tone turns serious.

“Jensen—I need to tell you something.”

Jensen looks up at him quickly, having been mesmerized by the candlelight shining from the center of the table. He hasn’t eaten all day, so his half-drunk beer plus old age has made him a fucking lightweight, and the buzz is putting him in a haze. But now, that buzz only heightens his paranoia over Misha’s ominous tone. “What’s wrong?” he asks with a gulp. _This could be it_. This could be the moment Vicki was trying to prepare him for. Ever since the EW shoot, his and Misha’s time together has been _lighter_ than he expected. Any time he’s tried to be serious, Misha would joke around. Any time he tried to talk about his feelings about the show, Misha would take on his fatherly-tone and tell him _everything will be okay_ , but he would refuse to share anything for himself. He hasn’t been cold, nor has he been distant; but Jensen could tell that he was holding something back, and it’s taken every ounce of his willpower not to simply wring it out of the guy—because he promised he wouldn’t.

Misha shuffles in his seat, looking more and more terrified with each passing second. “Well … it’s about the ending—well, _my_ ending, as in, _Cas’s ending._ ”

Jensen cocks his head to the side and furrows his brow. He’s not sure what he was expecting— _lord knows_ he’s been imagining the worst; but none of those thoughts involved Misha’s role on the show, not since the guy was obviously just as surprised about the finale as Jensen was _._ Maybe this isn’t the talk he’s been waiting for _._ “Oh? Okay, what about it?”

Misha sighs. “Well— _um_ —the thing is, I had a meeting with Dabb too. Well, Dabb and Bobo and Meredith, and _um_ …”

Jensen is getting impatient now, and his buzz has loosened his filter. “ _Jesus_ —out with it, _Dimitri_.”

Misha gives him a dirty look, but then smiles halfheartedly. “Okay, okay—I met with them several months ago, actually and—”

“Wait, _what?_ ” Jensen coughs, choking on the last gulp of beer he had decided to drink in that moment. “ _Several_ _months_ _ago?_ We hadn’t even started filming at that point. I don’t think they had even written any script yet.”

Misha shrugs and nods. “Well— _they had_. I mean, it was just their first brainstorming sessions; but they _did_ decide on one thing pretty early on … and it had to do with … with _us_.”

Jensen feels his heart begin to race. He swallows. _Okay_ … _maybe this is the talk._ Vicki did say, he needed to be open in regards to whatever happened with the show. “W-what?”

With a gentle hand on his knee, Misha steadies him. “You know how they’ve been writing me this season? And how they’ve been writing our scenes together? You’ve seen how much they’re focusing on our relationship...”

Jensen can barely breathe. _Where the fuck is this going?_ “Uh— _yeah_.”

Misha inhales deep and then closes his eyes. Voice shaking when he finally opens up again to speak. “Well … they want Cas’s death to be prefaced with an ‘I love you’… _to Dean_.”

Jensen stops panicking—because… _so?_

Misha notices the change in him instantly, so he clears his throat to try again. “I mean—as in, _he tells Dean he loves him_.”

Jensen can’t help but shrug. “Yeah—okay?”

And Misha seems flustered by it. “Like … _exclusively._ ”

“I get that, Mish; but what I don’t get it why that’s such a big deal to you?”

Misha’s mouth flaps helplessly. “It’s—I mean— _it’s not!_ I just thought it would be to _you!_ ”

“Why?” Jensen is laughing now. “It’s not like Cas hasn’t said it before.” He chuckles some more and then lifts his beer bottle towards a passing waiter to signal that he needs another.

Misha sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, I’m obviously not communicating this clearly.”

“Apparently not” Jensen laughs, but he reaches under the table to reassuringly rub Misha’s thigh.

Misha flicks his hand away. “Jensen—listen to me. They are writing a scene where Castiel confesses his love for Dean … _romantic love_ ; and when I left that room, they were considering having Dean reciprocate those feelings in some way; but they said that you’d need to agree to it first, so they tasked _me_ with running it by you. They want me to get your _OK._ ”

Jensen’s smile drops a little, and then a little more as it all starts to hit him, and then it falls away completely when he finally sees what Misha is trying so hard to get across. “Oh. So they … _oh._ ”

“Yeah” Misha whispers, and now he’s the one rubbing _Jensen’s_ thigh for reassurance. “So … what do you think?”

“ _Um_ …” Jensen hums, mind a mess of white noise. The waiter comes back with another beer and Jensen downs half of it before he can form a single thought.

“It doesn’t need to happen if you don’t wa—”

“What do _you_ think?” Jensen asks quickly, and it obviously catches Misha off guard.

He begins to fidget in his chair again. “Well …” Misha says, looking away towards the candlelight, and his eyes shine beautifully because of it.

The sight calms Jensen’s mind and makes him smile.

Misha peeks back at him. “Honestly … I really love the idea.”

“Yeah?” Jensen asks, still feeling nervous, but loving how excited Misha seems all of a sudden.

Misha nods swiftly. “Yeah— _but_ , I know this isn’t what _you_ wanted. _I_ may love the idea, but if you hate it, then it’s off the table. I would never want you to feel like I ruined the finale for you. This is such a big part of your life, and I don’t think I could live with myself if I knew I pushed for something that would make you unhappy. I don’t want you to resent me, so we don’t have to give this a second thought if you don’t want to. I just want what _you_ want, and that’s a good ending.”

Jensen’s mouth falls open, because he can’t believe that for several months—Misha has been sitting on _this_ , on this idea, on this worry, or this fear that something _he’s_ excited for might cause Jensen to resent him. It’s insane, and it’s heartbreaking, and Jensen can’t keep himself from leaning in close and locking onto Misha’s gaze. He holds it with such severity, it causes the other man to suck in a breath. “ _Misha_ —you could _never_ make me resent you. Understand? At the end of the day, this is just a show … but _you_? You’re the love of my life.” Jensen smiles, “Well—you’re _one_ of them.”

Misha finally exhales, long and slow, and then he smiles too.

“Is this what’s been bothering you? Vicki said that you’ve been struggling with something, so was _this_ what it was all about?” Jensen asks, face falling solemn once more.

A beat passes, but then Misha nods, blushing slightly in the dim light. “Yeah— _mostly_. I really thought that you’d hate the idea… that you might hate _me_ for wanting it so badly.” His voice cracks, and soon, he’s choking back tears just like he did at the photoshoot; and when he finally glances back at Jensen, the whites of his eyes are red. “It’s been bad enough saying goodbye to the show … _but_ … ”

Jensen wants nothing more than to scoop this man up into his arms and kiss him, _show him_ that he will never let him go, but he knows he can’t—so he slides his hand back under the table and wraps his fingers over Misha’s knee. “You can’t get rid of me that easy. I don’t care if you begged me to fuck you on screen, or wanted to end the show with Dean tattooing Cas’s face on his ass, I’d _still_ want you with me at the end of the day.”

Misha spits out a laugh, causing several other guests of the restaurant to turn and give them dirty looks. Misha covers his mouth and he shakes his head, skin burning as red as his eyes now. “I don’t think the network wants us to take it _that_ far … but it could be fun.”

Jensen shrugs. “Yeah, not sure if _that’s_ how I want to cross ‘sex in public’ off my list; but no matter how big or small it is—no matter if they make Dean and Cas a thing or not, _you and me_ … that ain’t changin’, alright?”

“Okay” Misha grins, and it’s obvious how much better he feels now.

“So, tell me … why do you want this for our characters?” Jensen asks, knowing they need to switch up the mood quick before they both start crying or— _start making out_. Either one is plausible at this point.

Misha’s grin brightens. “I mean … _because_ …” he sighs, excitement drying his eyes and calming his nerves, “just think about what that would mean for the show, for the _community representation_ , and especially … for our fans? People would absolutely lose their minds! And I just think it’s been a long time coming; and even though I’m truly shocked that the writers are willing to go there, I’m so fucking glad they’re doing it.” His joy proves contagious and soon, Jensen is grinning too. Misha leans in, eyes wide and wonderful. “ _Jensen_ … we could really do some _good_ with this.”

And that’s all it takes for Jensen to feel himself melt—any doubt he might’ve been feeling in regards to all this drifts away, like wax into candle smoke.

“So …?” Misha asks again, leaning in to him more, and all Jensen wants to do is tilt him back and kiss him hard.

“ _So_ …” Jensen repeats, attempting to steel himself in order to really contemplate things. After the last few months of worry and then the last couple days of anger, on top of the last few minutes of heartbreak and love, his mind is reeling _._ So, he tries to put himself into Dean-mode _._ He knows that this would blow the fans’ minds, and doing that is _always_ fun; but confirming Dean’s sexuality like this, as well as giving him a love interest—his best friend no less? _That’s_ _major_. And he knows that they were talking about killing off Cas within the last few episodes, so would they even have time to explore this huge revelation if they _do_ go through with it? Of course, none of these thoughts are really good reasons _not_ to go through with it. They’re just the same type of concerns he’s had with every big reveal they’ve attempted on the show. Some have worked, some haven’t, but he’s never truly regretted any of them. And considering the terrible plans the people in charge have for finishing the whole series, one last big moment like _this_ —a scene that can really mean something to people, _do some good_ as Misha said? That’s probably going to be what keeps Jensen from completely going insane over next six months. If the writers and the network stick to their guns on this ending … this scene between Dean and Cas might be the only part of the finale that truly matters. “I think we should go for it” Jensen says finally, and the way Misha illuminates is almost blinding.

“Really?” he laughs, an elated grin splitting his face in half. “Are you serious?”

Jensen grins back and nods. “Yeah—let’s go big. Fuck it.”

“Oh my go—Jensen—I …” Misha stammers and fumbles over all his thoughts, and it’s absolutely the cutest thing Jensen has ever seen.

“Jesus, man … it’s not like I proposed to you or anything” Jensen laughs, reaching back under the table to rub Misha’s thigh again.

But Misha just takes his hand into his own. “You may as well have! _Honestly_ … you know how much I love this character, how much I love this show and all the good it’s done; but I was so worried that my time on it would be punctuated with tragedy, and with upsetting _you_. But instead … instead it will be punctuated with representation and with love and happiness, and honestly, that makes up for everything! I don’t even really care about not being in the finale if it means I get to go out like _this_.”

Jensen’s joy slips away with the reminder, and his hand goes limp between Misha’s fingers. “I still want you there though.”

Misha’s eyes soften and his voice softens too. “I know, babe. _I know_ —I’m not saying I _don’t_ want to be there, but if that’s not what the show has planned for me, then I think that this moment that we’ll have together will be enough.”

He leans in again, and Jensen really wants Misha to kiss him and make everything alright, but he knows that he can’t.

Misha sighs and looks down at the table, chewing his bottom lip as more thoughts rise to the surface. “You know, if we do this … we will actually be saying ‘I love you’ out loud in front of everyone. _For once_ , we won’t need to hide it.”

He hadn’t thought about it like that, and something in his chest unlocks for the first time since he and Misha kissed on the floor during that game of Twister. Something about _not_ hiding, _not_ lying … just being open and honest, not caring who can hear them, who can _see_ them together, that sounds more miraculous than anything they’ve ever imagined on the show; and _God_ , does he want it now!

“What are you thinking?” Misha asks, pulling Jensen down from his ninth cloud and back to earth.

Jensen sighs, squeezing Misha’s hand against his leg. “I’m thinking that I love you, and I think this is good—it’s all really, really good.”

Smiling, Misha bites his lip again. “Me too.”

***

“Saw your anniversary post. Super cute babe XOXO.”

Jensen looks at his phone as the Uber takes him back to his condo, and he smiles—quickly tapping out a response to his wife. “Yeah. Mish realized we were sitting at the same table as the first time, then I remembered the pic I took ten years ago. Just happened.”

Danneel texts back quickly. “I remember that night. You were head over heels even back then.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“You were! I should know! I’m the one who had to listen to you go on and on about the guy for the next three weeks. Why do you think I invited him to our wedding?”

“Cuz you liked him too” Jensen texts back without thinking.

“I hadn’t even met him yet you idiot.”

Jensen reads her message and then laughs so loud, it makes his Uber driver jump and jerk the steering wheel; which earns Jensen a dirty look through the rearview mirror. “Sorry” he mouths and then turns his attention back to his phone. “I forgot about that.”

“Obviously. But I knew you liked him so I was happy he was there.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No” Danneel writes back. “He is pretty amazing. You both are.”

Jensen smiles, and briefly considers telling her all about the show’s plan for the love-confession; but then he stops himself, knowing that _plans change_ , scripts change, and _he’s_ still planning on trying to change that god-awful ending, so he really doesn’t want to jinx the _one_ good thing to come out of all this yet; so he decides he’ll tell her after the meeting. Jensen sighs. “I love you” is all he texts instead.

“Love you too. What are you up to now?”

Jensen bites his lip, remembering how Misha pushed him up against the side of the restaurant as they waited for the Uber to get there, concealed in the shadows and the rush of night, kissing him hard with his hands _everywhere_. Tongues and touch, moans and gasps. They couldn’t go too far, but they went just far enough that Jensen has been trying his best to not pop a boner this entire ride home. He begins to type. “Misha wants to … _celebrate_ our anniversary, so he’s meeting me back at the condo.”

A series of lewd emojis quickly appear on the screen and Jensen busts up laughing again. Thankfully—the driver doesn’t seem startled by it this time. “Send noods” his wife texts a moment later, so Jensen replies with a winky face—while also trying _not_ to think about how hot all this is making him. The idea of capturing the exact moment his body syncs with Misha’s—and then sending that moment to his wife; _and then_ imagining her touching herself as she looks at it? _Fuck_. He needs this guy to speed the fuck up because if he doesn’t get back to the condo _quick_ , he’ll finish right here in the backseat of this car; and that’s really not how he wants to end the night.

About ten minutes later, he’s at the door and fumbling for his keys—but it flies open before he even has a chance to find the right one, and the next thing he knows, Misha is pulling him inside and pinning him against a wall again.

“Jesus! What’re you doing here? I thought you were going to run home first!”

Misha shakes his head and then begins to kissing his neck, barely coming up for air between nips. “I was going to—but then Danneel texted me.”

Jensen gasps as Misha grinds against his thigh. “Fuck … _yeah_ , she texted me too.”

A growl bubbles up from his throat as he begins to unfasten Jensen’s belt. “She told me how much she wanted to watch me fuck you.”

“ _Mm, yeah?_ ” Jensen closes his eyes and his legs begin to shake.

“She said I had to make you beg for it, and she had me begging for it too.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mish” Jensen moans, grabbing the man’s face and kissing him hard.

“I want you so bad” Misha hisses between Jensen’s teeth, and soon—they’re stumbling through the entryway and into the living room, finally falling onto the couch in a flurry of hands and discarded clothes.

“Wait… wait … let me just …” Jensen leans over and pulls his phone from his pants pocket before Misha can pull them the rest of the way down; and then he opens up his camera app and takes a close up shot of his hand sliding across the base of Misha’s stomach—fingers disappearing beneath the waistband of his briefs. “That’ll get her going” Jensen laughs as he sends the pic to Danneel. His phone dings a second later, but he doesn’t get a chance to look at it because Misha is already dropping to his knees in front of him and sucking Jensen’s cock into his mouth. “Holy fu—”

Misha moans around his shaft, sucking and bobbing back and forth until Jensen literally can’t hold himself up anymore.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you” Jensen grunts, arching with every pass of his friend’s tongue.

Those blue eyes stare up at him, swallowing him whole and it’s mind-boggling how fast he comes. Misha laughs as he swallows, eventually popping off and raising his eyebrow. “That must’ve been a record … I don’t know whether to be proud of myself or embarrassed for you.”

“ _Fuck_. _Off_.” Jensen huffs, stars bursting in the corners of his eyes; but he doesn’t have a chance to calm down because Misha is picking him up and flipping him over—manhandling him in such a way that makes his spent-cock twitch with promise.

“Don’t worry, baby—I having a feeling I’ll be quick too” Misha pants, sounding wrecked and rough, and so, so sexy.

Jensen whimpers as he tries to keep his liquid-muscles tight so the man doesn’t have to work too hard, but it’s tough; and then he remembers… “ _Phone_ ” he garbles, face buried into the leather couch cushion.

He hears Misha spit into his hand and then the sound of him slicking up his own cock. “What?”

Jensen lifts his head a little. “Pictures … for Dani.”

“Oh—yeah, I almost forgot.”

Jensen drops his head back down, trying to keep himself upright, but _relaxed_ because it doesn’t seem like Misha is going to take it slow tonight.

“Alright …” Misha growls, and Jensen gasps when the tip of the man’s cock starts to press into him. Then he hears a _click_ , and then a few more, one for each little thrust Misha makes—opening Jensen up wider and wider. “And … _send_.” He listens as the man laughs low, and the sound vibrates all the way through Jensen’s body. “ _There_. Your wife should be able to get off on those … but _now_ , _it’s_ _my turn._ ”

Jensen moans as Misha begins to move, in and out, faster and faster, stretching him quicker than he probably should, but the delicious burn and wince of pain feels like everything Jensen needs right now. It’s grounding, and consuming every worrying thought in his head. He’ll probably be aching like crazy tomorrow, but for right now— _fuck, if it didn’t feel amazing._

With his nails digging into Jensen’s hips, Misha thrusts start to stutter, and Jensen can feel his cock throb inside him. “Fuck, baby—I’m gonna cum!”

Jensen reaches back to grab the man’s wrist, bracing himself against the frame of the couch with his other hand—and then he slams his body backwards, bottoming out on Misha’s shaft and screaming as he bursts inside him.

“Fuck!” Misha barks, gasping as his hips jerk on the aftershocks of his release. “ _Fuck_ ” he says again a moment later, more quietly and unearthed, eventually leaning forward and collapsing across Jensen’s back.

It was then, Jensen finally heard the buzzing—so he twists around to see his phone lighting up on the cushion beside them. His wife’s name and face flash across the screen, so he fumbles with it a moment until he’s finally able to swipe it open and put it on speaker.

“That’s all I get?” Danneel yells, sounding just as wrecked as they do; but for entirely different reason. “Two blurry cock pics and then a snapshot of Misha’s crotch?”

“Sorry, babe” Jensen groans, yawning as a happy smile begins to pull across his face.

“Oh—that’s just _great_. You both finished already, didn’t you? Jesus, you’re like horny teenagers!”

Misha chuckles—but soon, he’s yawning too. “Sorry, Dani. Wish you were here.”

“Well, _I’m not!_ So, next time you two assholes decide to get busy, do this lady a solid and take some fucking video for Christ’s sake!”

The screen turns red with the disconnected call, leaving both Misha and Jensen to wallow in their cum-soaked silence; but even with his wife pissed off and pent up, Jensen knows this is the best night he’s had all week.

***

They had both showered and climbed into bed, barely able to keep their eyes open after their frantic fuck; but Jensen’s mind is still too busy to fall asleep just yet.

“Hey, Mish?”

“ _Hm?_ ” Misha hums, curled up against Jensen’s side—his body warm and soft.

“Jared likes the ending.”

“ _Wha?_ ” Misha grunts, sounding slightly annoyed now that he’s being kept awake for _moose-talk_.

Jensen sighs. “ _Jared_ … he said he liked the ending. He said it was _poetic_.”

“Kinda is, I guess” Misha says around another yawn.

Jensen had scanned and forwarded the entire script to Misha before his flight up here, so he knows that the guy is informed in his opinion, but he simply can’t believe that _that’s_ where the information led him. “But Supernatural has never been _poetic._ It’s been serious and sad and silly, but not poetic.”

“I don’t agree with that.”

Jensen glances down at the other man. His eyes are closed and his head is resting on Jensen’s chest, and he’s barely clinging to consciousness; so, Jensen decides not to get annoyed with him just yet. “You don’t?”

“No” his boyfriend grumbles. “Supernatural has had some very beautiful, poetic moments.”

“Like?”

Misha grumbles again, and then he groans, finally pulling himself off of Jensen so he can look at him with sleepy, aggravated eyes. “Like the entire purgatory arc in season 8. Like the Metatron arc after that. And there have been a million other beautiful scenes and scripts that make this show the special thing that it is. If it was just serious and sad and silly, I don’t think it would’ve lasted very long.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, annoyed that he’s getting lectured—because he really just wanted to vent. “Okay, well, _whatever_. I just don’t think that _this_ ending is poetic, nor do I think it’s right … and it’s kinda killin me that Jared doesn’t agree.”

Eyeing his freckles a moment, Misha bends down and kisses Jensen’s chest, drawing lines with his lips between each of the clusters, plotting points like mile markers on a map. And as he moves up, kissing more and more of Jensen’s skin, the more Jensen settles, until, they’re finally face to face, sharing air as well as a moment of silence, simply sweet. Misha kisses Jensen’s jaw, and then his chin too, and finally his lips, soft and sleepy like warm pillows. “I know you guys rarely butt heads on anything; but remember, this is the show that he, quite literally _grew up_ on.”

Jensen _unsettles_ immediately. “ _I did too!_ ” And he’s cringing at himself the second the whine leaves his mouth, because he knows he’s being immature … he just can’t seem to help it.

Misha purses his lips. “Yes, but you were still a few years older than him when it started, and a few years makes a big difference in your twenties. His connection to Supernatural is different than yours. Plus, he looks up to you—and having that special moment at the end with just you and him is probably really important, and Jared wants an experience that reminds him of the beginning.”

Jensen sighs but eventually gives in, because Jared basically said as much the yesterday in his office. “Well—he also said he likes it because it’ll be easy for him. He can wrap his head around it.”

“That’s a big deal” Misha agrees.

“But I don’t care about _easy!_ I’d rather it be hard as hell and _good_ , than easy and a shit-show.”

“Jensen … you know how rough the last few years have been for Jared. It sounds like he’s just trying to look after himself.”

Now Jensen feels like an ass again, and he knows he needs to stop being such a shitty friend. “Yeah … _fuck_ … _yeah_ , I know. I’m just worked up, I guess.”

Misha looks him over, eyes tired but still full of feeling. “That doesn’t mean, however, that you can’t look out for yourself too—and if fighting for a different ending will help you sleep at the end of the day, then you need to do that.”

Jensen chuckles. “You’re just saying that because you want me to sleep at the end of _this day_.”

Misha shrugs, but he’s smiling.

“Fine” Jensen says, bending down to kiss Misha’s forehead. “Go to bed. We can talk more in the morning.”

With a quick nod, Misha collapses against him again and is snoring within seconds; but Jensen still can’t quite drift off knowing that he’s at odds with his best friend. Knowing that something _he_ wants could make life harder for Jared—leaves him feeling uneasy and sick. Playing the over-protective older brother has always come naturally to him, because that’s the role he plays in real life, and he’s never knowingly done anything to hurt Jared … but going through with this meeting _just might_. Changing the ending might save the show, yet hurt his best friend, and he’s not sure if he’ll ever be okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This story was originally posted as one long work, therefore, many of the comments on this chapter contain spoilers for the story in its entirety.**
> 
> **READ COMMENTS AT YOUR OWN RISK!**


	2. Chapter 2

The days went by too quickly, and Tuesday came like a blow dart to his and Misha’s happy, little bubble.

“How are you feeling?” Misha asks him for the hundredth time, and for the hundredth time, Jensen has the same answer.

“ _Nervous_. I hate that I’m meeting with Pedowitz. I was really hoping that it’d be one of his lapdogs sitting in” Jensen grumbles. The head of the network rarely comes to gatherings on the show-level; not unless something is really _right_ or really _wrong_ , and Jensen fears … this meeting falls in the latter.

Misha pats his shoulder before walking stiffly past him towards the bathroom, stretching and cracking his back along the way. He’s wincing with every little _pop_ , and it brings his surgery back to the forefront of Jensen’s mind. 

“How about you?” Jensen asks, feeling guilty that it’s taken him all morning to ask.

“I’m fine” Misha says, finally shaking out his legs—acting like he’s going to go have a cavity filled and _not_ a major medical procedure. He walks into the bathroom to finish getting ready, so Jensen follows him.

“Mish—c’mon, you’ve barely talked about it the last few days. It’s fine if you’re scared.”

Misha groans. “I’m not! _I’m actually fine_ , Jensen … really. It’s a pretty routine surgery and I’m just grateful I have the means to get it done.”

Jensen can’t help but roll his eyes. “God, I hate it when you get all noble on me.”

Misha rolls his eyes back before clicking on his electric razor to start shaving.

“Look, all I’m saying is, it would be understandable if you’re nervous, and I’m here for you if you wanna talk about it.”

“Babe …” Misha starts, moving the razor in slow circles across his neck, “I appreciate that, I do—but I know it’ll all go smoothly. I have good doctors and I have the rest of hiatus to heal, so unless you really _want me_ to overthink things and get nervous about it, I suggest you get back to thinking about your meeting.”

Jensen folds his arms across his chest in frustration. “Fine. Fine. I won’t bring it up again” he lies, leaning up against the bathroom wall as he watches the man. He’s sure Misha’s right … _he’ll be fine_ ; but Jensen is still going to worry until he gets that call tomorrow saying that the guy is out of surgery and everything is okay.

_That his right as a boyfriend._

“So, did Mark tell Andrew why he wanted to sit in on the meeting? Like—is it a good thing or a bad thing?” Misha asks, pulling Jensen back to his more immediate cause for concern.

Jensen shrugs. “No clue. All Andrew said this morning was that Pedowitz caught wind of ‘my apprehensions’ and wanted to talk to me about them.”

“Well, fingers crossed it’s a good thing.”

Jensen scoffs. “Yeah— _doubtful_.”

“Keep an open mind, sweetheart—but also, don’t overthink it.”

Jensen scoffs again, because that’s obviously not his forte; but he tries anyway—clearing his mind by admiring Misha a moment. It’s a _fine_ fucking distraction from the fine fucking mess he’s about to walk into. Misha has his waist pressed up against the bathroom counter—no shirt, no pants, just orange boxer-briefs painted onto his thick, round ass. It shakes a little as he leans over the sink to better tackle the scruff that’s peppering his face. Jensen licks his lips as he continues to eye fuck the man—causing blue eyes to squint at him through the mirror.

“You better stop leering at me, or else I’m going to make myself late for my flight and _you_ late for your meeting.”

Jensen grins. “Please do.”

That makes Misha roll his eyes. “No. I gotta spare my hips, remember?”

“You’ve been doing fine so far” Jensen growls in his lowest, sexiest voice.

But Misha only laughs at him. “Again— _no._ Plus, you’re already waddling as it is. If I fuck you one more time, you won’t be able to even _sit_ at this meeting.”

 _It’s true_. He is pretty sore from that first night’s romp on the couch, and then the second night’s romp in the bed … and then last night’s romp on the kitchen counter (which was expertly filmed for his now—very grateful wife) but as his eyes trace up and down Misha’s body once more—thick thighs, broad chest, skin so tan, it looks like the man has been coated in butterscotch, Jensen thinks that _not_ _being_ _able_ _to_ sit might just be worth it. “You’ve been working outside a lot, haven’t you?”

“ _What_?” Misha laughs, turning his head to shave up the other side of his face.

Jensen’s eyes trace the sharp line of his jaw. “I’m just noticing how tan you are.”

With a smirk, Misha stops shaving and clicks off the razor. “You have spent the last three days watching me walk around this place _completely_ _naked,_ and you’re _just now_ noticing I’m tan?”

Jensen shrugs. “Well …” he scoots closer and starts to tug at the band of the man’s briefs, “when your cock is out, that’s really _all_ I see.”

Misha elbows him in the gut to make him back up. “Jensen … _seriously_ , I’m not going to fuck you again; so, go take a shower and get ready” he commands—but that only turns Jensen on more.

Jensen begins to tent his sweatpants. “ _But_ —”

A tan finger is immediately wagging in his face. “No _buts._ Go!” Misha eventually points at the shower and doesn’t relent until Jensen is stripping down and climbing in.

His friend goes back to getting ready, and Jensen goes back to worrying; but as the steam begins to fill the room, all his muscles (as well as his masochistic-dick) begin to soften. So, his worries soften a little too, turning from worst-case scenarios, into long, tangled strings of what-ifs _: What if the network brushes him off? What if they get pissed that he’s fighting them on this? Will that affect his production-company deal? Will he burn any bridges with Pedowitz? What if they end up agreeing to change the ending but end up making it worse?_ Or … perhaps, the _scariest_ of all: _What if they agree to change the ending and Jared never forgives him for it?_

“Jen?” Misha calls over the rush of water and inner-turmoil.

“Ya?”

“Dani just texted you. She said _‘_ good luck’ _,_ and also wanted to remind you to pick up a— _pterodactyl_ before you fly home next week?”

Jensen scrunches up his face before suddenly remembering. “Oh … crap. Yeah, okay.”

Misha pulls open the shower door and stares at him—at first with confusion, but soon, those blue eyes fill with something else, and Jensen smiles—because now _he’s_ the one who’s leering.

“I’m not gonna fuck you again, Mish” he mocks, but he knows that if Misha asked him to, Jensen would be on him in a heartbeat.

His friend scoffs. “Yeah _okay_. We both know _that’s_ not true.”

Jensen shrugs and then nods before going back to soaping up his body.

“So, explain the pterodactyl please” Misha says after another moment of quiet admiration—since Jensen _was_ trying to sex-up his shower a little now that he had an audience.

But the question instantly kills the vibe. Jensen sighs. “It’s for Zepp. He discovered the ‘Land Before Time’ series on Netflix and Petrie is his favorite character.”

“Oh, _god_ —” Misha croaks, suddenly very serious, “that scene with Little Foot’s mom gets me every time.”

Jensen laughs as he watches the man’s face become distant and sad. “Yeah—well, _anyway_. The only place that we could find a stuffed pterodactyl that looks even remotely close to Petrie, is this little shop just across the border, and they don’t deliver online orders to the US. You have to pick them up in-store.”

The explanation causes Misha to snap back to reality. “Which border?”

“ _This_ border” Jensen says, pointing one soapy finger towards the ground to represent _Canada_.

“Why didn’t you just ask _me_ to pick it up? I could’ve shipped it to you, no problem.”

Jensen shrugs again before grabbing the shampoo and squirting some into his palm. “I was gonna be up here anyway, and you’re about to have hip surgery. I didn’t need to bother you with it. It’s not a big deal for me to rent a car and go get it.”

“Yeah, but …” Misha sighs, and it makes Jensen stop washing his hair.

“What?”

His friend shakes his head, seeming distant and sad again. “I … just want you to still think of me is all.”

“Wait— _what?_ ” Jensen quickly rinses his hair and then turns off the water so he can step out of the shower. Misha moves back and hands him his towel. “What are you talking about, man?”

That dark head of hair tilts down towards the tile—and he’s still only wearing his orange briefs, but now his bare body makes him seem more like a scared little kid. “I’ve been wanting to talk with you about it for a while… but I just … I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“Bring _what_ up? Mish, you’re worrying me” Jensen says, wrapping the towel around his waist so his hands are free to rub the man’s shoulders.

Misha looks him over, seeming far too uneasy for a guy who has gotten laid three times in the last three days. He sighs. “When this show is over and there’s nothing left to shoot—and you go back to Austin, what will that mean … _for us?_ ”

_Oh … he wants to have this conversation, now?_

Jensen looks across the bathroom to the clock on the wall, noting that Pedowitz’s plane will be landing soon, and it doesn’t take that long to get from the airport to the CW’s Vancouver office; and _this_ conversation is not one to be rushed. “Mish, I want to sit down and talk about this with you, I do; but I have to get dressed and go to this meeting.”

The other man nods as he clears his throat. “Y—yeah, I know. I have to go soon too. Sorry, we can talk about it later.”

Jensen bends down to catch his gaze. “We will, I promise—just, know _I love you_ and nothing’s gonna change that.”

Misha smiles weakly at him. “ _Okay, go!_ Go get dressed, and don’t worry about me or any of this. Just focus on what you’re going to say in that meeting.”

Jensen bites the inside of his cheek, knowing that now _he’s just going to be worrying about both_ , but he bends down and kisses Misha’s downturned lips all the same, rushing off right after to go put on the perfectly matched business-casual outfit that he spent the last two days perfecting.

***

His dark grey blazer has a wrinkle in it from the car ride over here, and Jensen could quite literally punch a wall.

_Why the fuck didn’t he take it off before getting in the fucking car?_

“Mr. Ackles? They’re ready for you” the receptionist announces, gesturing for Jensen to go into the conference room.

The invitation yanks him from his self-berating. “Oh. Okay, thanks” he says, standing up while taking a deep breath—trying one more time to tug out the crease in the blazer, but it doesn’t lessen and neither do his nerves. He and Misha had acted out what he was going to say a thousand times in the last few days, so he shouldn’t feel so off-kilter; but now with his and Misha’s relationship on his mind, as well as his friendship with Jared, plus his and Dani’s production deal with the WB—all of which seem to hinge on what he says when he enters that room in one way or another, Jensen feels anything but prepared. But, there’s no turning back now, so, he clears his throat and walks through the doors, acting like he’s far more confident than he actually is.

“Jensen!” Andrew says, reaching out to enthusiastically shake Jensen’s hand—seeming more like an excitable fan than the series’ showrunner and Jensen’s boss.

Jensen smiles his most charming smile in return. “Andrew” he says, while his gaze travels across the large table to where the network’s president, Mark Pedowitz is sitting—with an assistant at his left, already writing notes— _on what,_ Jensen isn’t sure; and then, with who he’s assuming is a bodyguard, standing behind the man on his right. “Mr. Pedowitz, thank you for taking the time to meet with me.” Jensen nods, since he’s sitting too far away for him to shake his hand too.

Mark smiles at him, but it’s obviously forced. “My pleasure, Jensen. However, I gotta say—hearing that you wanted to contest the proposed series’ end was concerning.”

Jensen swallows, sitting down slowly and nodding again. “Yes. I know that this is not how we normally do things; but I was hoping that since this is the first time in fifteen years that I’ve asked for a meeting, you’ll at least consider what I have to say.”

Mark is quiet a moment. “Of course—tell me what’s on your mind.”

Jensen looks at Dabb, who seems just as nervous as he is, even though they’re quite literally on opposite sides of all this. “Well, when I read the proposal for the finale, I felt like it … it just _wasn’t_ right for the characters and the overall trajectory of the show. I have spent a lot of time playing this role and getting to know this world, and bringing it full-circle like this just doesn’t sit right with me.” He takes a deep breath, remembering what Misha told him right before he walked out the door today: _The worst he can say is no, but at least you’ll know you tried._ “I know it’s not necessarily my place to ask this, sir, but I’m hoping that you’ll OK some new ideas for rewrites.”

Mark leans forward—elbows on the table, hands clasped together with his index fingers pressed against his lips, and he exhales softly, seeming deep in thought as the rest of the room waits—and his assistant continues to write furiously on her legal pad. “I suppose, it’ll be your place soon enough once you and your wife start running your own branch of the business, but _yes_ —until then, this _isn’t_ how we normally do things. That being said … I hear you, Jensen. I do; and I’m sure it’s hard, after playing this character for as long as you have, to accept _any_ sort of ending that’s written for him; but I assure you, the writers didn’t rush through this script. They put a lot of time and effort into it.”

“Yes, I’m sure they did, but—”

“And not only did _they_ put a lot into it, but our network has put a lot of work in as well. You know, we’ve held focus groups and ran surveys, and our marketing and publicity departments have come at this from every possible angle to see what will give this show longevity even after production stops.”

Jensen nods, “Right. Well, I know that you wa—”

“And Supernatural is what has launched this network’s streaming services. The ability for viewers to binge the series brought in a whole new audience our way, and they kept tuning in for new episodes once they got hooked. So, when the new episodes are _no-more_ , they’ll be doing nothing but watching and re-watching it from beginning to end, and with that all fresh in their minds— our research shows, people like a _tidy_ conclusion to a series rather than an emotional one.”

“I respectfully disagree” Jensen jumps in—slightly louder than necessary but, he’s slightly annoyed now so he doesn’t really care.

“Of course you do. That’s why we’re sitting here.”

Jensen takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. Normally, he’s doesn’t have a problem with Mark. He’s never really had a problem with any of the people who make the decisions that affect his life, but this is his legacy—and he knows he can’t just let it go _._ “Look, I’m not proposing any major changes here. I get that keeping the show reigned in is important—especially if it’ll keep making you money in the long run.”

Mark sits back in his seat and raises an eyebrow at him, but Jensen refuses to be swayed.

“I just think that some loose ends can be tied up, some important characters can make one last appearance, and the brothers can focus on the family they’ve _built_ —at least for a while before you shift the focus back to _just_ _them_.”

Andrew taps the table before sitting up straighter in his seat. “Can I jump in here?”

Mark nods to him.

Andrew smiles flatly. “Alright, I understand where you’re coming from, and I agree that things are still … _rough_ ;” Andrew gives him a look which can only lead Jensen to believe that the guy might be more on his side than he had originally thought. “But—what I’m hearing is, you’re not good with the middle of the script, yet you’re fine with the end and how we lead into the final episodes?”

“Well, I admit—the end is not my favorite either, but I can accept it if the road taken to get there is smoothed out a bit.”

“But… you _are_ fine with how we lead in?”

Jensen’s heart begins to race, because he’s not sure if Andrew is hinting towards the big Dean/Cas scene Misha was telling him about; but if he is, Jensen _is_ _not_ prepared to discuss _that_ yet, especially not _here,_ with the Big Boss staring him down. “ _Um_ , well … yes? From what I’ve heard … that’s all good. It’s really just the finale that doesn’t fit for me.”

Andrew nods. “Okay, okay—well, it’s still early on and nothing has been firmed up yet, so I have no problem sitting down with Bob and the others to brainstorm some things.”

“ _Andrew_ …” Mark snips, glaring daggers at the man before looking back to Jensen. “Could you give us a minute?”

“Oh” Jensen mumbles, confused and anxious as he starts to stand, “yeah—sure, no problem.”

“Great. Thanks” Mark says, watching closely as Jensen walks back out the door and into the waiting area.

The door quickly shuts behind him and he can hear Mark’s coarse Boston-drawl reverberating through the walls, and it sends a chill up his spine. Again, he’s never really had a problem with the man—normally, he seems like a pretty laid-back guy, but then again, Jensen has never given him any reason _not_ to be … not until now.

A couple minutes later the door opens again and Andrew is waving him in—looking slightly smaller and paler than before.

“Alright” Mark begins, sounding firm but settled to some degree. “We’ve discussed it and—barring any _major_ changes, we’ll let you sit with the writers to debate some alternatives plot points. However, any adjustments will need to come through me, and then and _only_ _then,_ will the scripts be altered.”

Jensen’s mouth falls open—because he really wasn’t expecting that, not after he was asked to leave the room. “Oh, wow— _um_ , thank you, Mr. Pedowitz! I, I don’t even know what to say.”

Mark holds up a hand to halt Jensen’s appreciation. “Don’t get too excited. I’m not agreeing to anything yet; and what I _do_ agree to probably won’t make that big of a difference in the end; but I know that we’ll be working together in the future, so—I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”

Jensen’s excitement dips a little, not liking how portentous that sounds. “Well…” he says, feeling slightly strangled now, “I appreciate your consideration at least. I know this was unorthodox.”

The man smiles, short white curls—unmoving as he nods his head. “Certainly is; but, like you said, you’ve never asked for anything before, so it’s the least I can do.”

Jensen almost laughs at his choice of words. “Well, thank you again, sir.”

“No problem. I look forward to seeing your suggestions.”

Jensen doubts that, but he smiles all the same—finally saying his goodbyes before heading back out of the room to make his way to his car.

“Woah, wait up!” Andrew says, catching Jensen just before he walks out the front of the building.

Jensen turns around, taking a deep breath now that’s he’s far enough away from that suffocating meeting. “Thanks for setting this up Andrew—and, sorry I was such an ass on the phone last week.”

Andrew shakes his head before patting Jensen on the back—moving him gently through the doors while looking back behind them; but he waits until they’re completely out of the building before he says anything else. “Look, if I’m being honest … and I’ll deny it if anyone asks me after today, I wasn’t necessarily thrilled with where the script had to land either; but, my hands are tied by what the network wants, and they tied up themselves with their predictions of what the fans want.”

“But the fans don’t want _this_ , you and I both know that!”

Andrew nods and then puts his hands on his hips. “Yeah, yeah—but like Mark said, the streaming platform plays a big part in the decision-making, so going from the start of the series to the end in one big loop, will keep people coming back.”

“Even if the ending is unsatisfying?”

Andrew shrugs. “Yeah, _especially_ then. I guess it makes people nostalgic for the older episodes, so they re-watch them over and over again to make up for the parts they didn’t like. They’ve done a stupid amount of studies on it.”

Jensen sighs as he looks up to the cloudy grey sky, wondering if that meeting was really just a big waste of his time and sanity. “So, be honest with me, man—do you think we can actually change anything?”

Andrew shrugs, following Jensen’s gaze to the clouds. “ _Maybe_ —little things.”

“Like getting Misha into the final episode?”

Andrew’s cheeks turn red. “Well …”

Jensen glares at him. “Why the hell isn’t he in that script, man?”

“Jensen …”

“No, I don’t get it; he should be there.”

Andrew frowns. “Has he talked to you yet?”

Jensen rolls his eyes, because he figured that’s what was holding the guy back. “ _Yes_ —I know about the plans for Cas to confess his love to Dean, and I’m cool with it, alright?”

Andrew’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“Yes, _really!_ I mean, it makes sense—especially given the whole break-up scene we shot in episode three, and that purgatory make-up scene with shot just a few weeks ago. You guys have been priming our characters for something big like that all season, so it totally makes sense for the story to head that way; but what _doesn’t_ make sense is to have all that build-up and then let it all fall flat after one big moment. Misha … _Cas, should be there in the end!_ If Dean cares about him at all, which is sounds like you guys want him to care about the guy _a lot_ , then why wouldn’t he kick as many asses as possible to get him back? Why not have that big reunion scene so they both have closure? I don’t get it!”

Andrew closes his eyes and kicks the pavement with his shoe, toeing at the cracks in the cement as he anxiously figures out how to say what he needs to say. “If we do _that_ … if we write in that big reunion, the show will become about _Dean and Cas’s relationship_ and not about the brothers.”

Jensen scoffs. “It can be about _all those_ relationships! It _should_ be about all those relationships! If it’s not, what was the point of the show’s entire motto ‘Family doesn’t end with blood’?” He throws his hands up in the air, irritated and completely done with everyone’s backwards logic. “I feel like I’m the only one who’s been paying attention to the story the last fifteen years!”

“ _You’re not_ ” Andrew says sharply. “We care about this story too. In fact … we had _very_ different plans for the finale, _but then_ …” he sighs again, shoving his hands in his pockets as he shakes his head, “well, like I said before—my hands are tied.”

“ _Well_ , if Mark keeps his word—the knot’s been loosened a little” Jensen snips, finally turning on his heel to head back to the car.

“I hope you’re right, Jensen. I really do” Andrew calls after him, but Jensen is as good as gone; he just hopes the same can’t be said for his show.

***

The condo seems far too cold when he gets back. Empty and lonely. Quiet and peculiar. The walls are too white and impersonal, and the furniture feels too big for just him and him alone. Jensen sighs, walking into the once full living room with heavy feet, eventually dropping his keys onto the coffee table before collapsing back onto the couch. Too much has happened in the last hour, and it’s burying him alive and weighing him down, making that incredible first night he had here with Misha seem too far away, even though he can still smell the man on the leather. 

_He wishes Misha was here._

He had texted Jensen when he was boarding his flight about twenty minutes ago—but by the time Jensen was free to call him back, the guy had already turned off his phone; so, Jensen didn’t get the chance to tell him about the meeting; and he didn’t get the chance to wish him a safe trip or to comfort him about his surgery one more time … even though he knew Misha would’ve just brushed him off. Jensen still wanted to _say_ it. He wanted to put those good thoughts into the universe, but since he missed his chance, he’s worried he’s left room for bad luck to wriggle in and mess with things. So, he slides down off the couch and does something he hasn’t done in years … _he prays._

He prays for Misha to get to Chicago okay, and he prays that his surgery will be quick with no complications. He prays that no matter what happens with the show, he’ll find a way to make peace with it … and that Jared will find peace with it too. He prays that when everything he knows is over—and everything else that’s new is just beginning—when everything is changing and he starts to panic about that because, _he knows he will_ , that enough things will remain the same for him to be okay. He prays that his relationships, his friendships and the things that bring him joy _won’t_ change, and he prays that these new experiences _won’t change him_ , because at the end of the day, he knows how lucky he is, and he’d never forgive himself if he somehow screwed it all up.

With clasped hands, he prays for it all—as sun dips low and shines in through the windows behind him, turning those too-white walls orange, and warming that too cold room just enough for him to finally breathe without an ache in his heart.

***

“I wish you guys were here. The holidays just aren’t the same without you.”

Jensen watches as his wife switches her phone from one ear to the other, so her right hand is free to stir the gravy she’s cooking.

“ _I know._ How’s he doing anyway?” she asks, smiling a moment later. “Good, good. Jensen has been a wreck this last week. I keep reminding him that Misha’s _fine_ , but he’s acting like the guy just lost all his limbs or something.”

Jensen scoffs, because— _he hasn’t been that bad._

Danneel cackles and then looks back at him as he spins around on one of the swivel-stools by the kitchen island.

He was supposed to be setting the table for dinner, but then Vicki called and he quickly forgot about the plates and salad bowls in lieu of an update. Misha has texted him a few times, but the meds he’s on are making him too tired to really talk, so all the news about his well-being is coming from Vick.

“Yeah—yeah, I know. Those two are helpless without each other, aren’t they?” His wife laughs again, too loud this time, and he knows they both are making fun of him. “ _Mhm_ , yeah—you too. But hey, Jensen is staring at me like a lost puppy so I’m gonna hand the phone over, alright? Yup … love you too, hun. Bye, bye.” She turns and holds her phone out to Jensen who’s practically flying off the stool to grab it. She rolls her eyes as she goes back to cooking.

“H-hey, Vicki. How’s he doin’?” he grunts before the phone is even all the way against his ear.

“He’s doing _fine_ , Jensen … same as this morning, same as last night. He’s just fine.”

Jensen sighs, relief washing over him like a flood. “Okay, good. Good. Will you tell him—”

“Yes, I will tell him you miss him … just like I did this morning, and just like I did last night.”

He chuckles. “Thanks—and, _sorry._ I know I’m buggin’ ya. I just wish you all were here, or we were there.”

“I do too, and so does Misha, and so do the kids. Maison keeps talking my ear off about how JJ is going to miss her too much if we don’t go to Texas, and that will ruin JJ’s Christmas.”

“Aww” Jensen laughs, “that’s so sweet.”

“It’s a ploy is what it is. She only acts this sweet when she’s working an angle. I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.”

“Jeez, you make her sound like a super-villain or something.”

The woman groans. “ _You’ve met her father._ She has his dubiousness just as much as she has his heart. It’s a dangerous combination for a parent. One minute, she’s being the most kind, considerate angel on earth, and the next—she’s making you look one way so she can burn the house down behind you.”

“Well, I miss her all the same; and JJ does too.”

“Oh, well … I could just send the kids to Austin, then maybe Misha and I could _both_ recoup.”

“I honestly wouldn’t mind that one bit” Jensen says seriously. He loves those little hellions like his own.

Vicki sighs. “If only.”

Just then, Jared walks in through the front door—Odette in his arms, Tom and Shep on his heels, and Genevieve coming in behind them all holding a stack of pies.

“Hey, Vick—Jared just got here so I’m gonna havta run. Tell Misha I love him, the kids too, and I hope you all have a nice Christmas Eve.”

“Same to you guys. Next year things will get back to normal and we’ll all be together again.”

Jensen smiles, hoping that that’s true. “Love you, Vicki.”

“Love you too. Bye”

“Bye, bye” Jensen hangs up the phone, smiling at it a moment before remembering that he needs to go greet the new arrivals—and his smile falls when he remembers, _greeting_ them won’t be as simple as it usually is.

He hasn’t spoken to Jared these past couple weeks—not since their semi-fight in his office. Jensen thought he might run into him at the studio when he went in to record for some footage, but Jared’s time slots had been cancelled; and Jensen wasn’t sure if Jared was the one who cancelled them or if it was the studio, and he didn’t know if he should call and ask the guy because he didn’t know where they stood.

_Is he mad?_

_Does he know how the meeting went?_

_Is he stressed out?_

_Does he hate him for making that meeting?_

Jensen scrubs a hand down his face before walking over to hand Danneel her phone back.

“Go talk to him” she hisses immediately, flicking her eyes towards Jared as the guy helps Gen put the pies on the counter.

Jensen nods and takes a deep breath, putting on his most pleasant expression. “Hey, guys!” he chirps a second later, moving around his wife so he can give everyone a hug.

Gen smiles at him brightly and hugs him tight. “Merry Christmas, _Old Man_.”

Jensen laughs and then ruffles her hair. “You too, _Shorty_.” He’s not sure when they gave each other the nicknames, but they’ve been using them for years, making her feel like another little sister that’s always been in his life; but his humor dips when he looks up to at her husband.

“Hey, ma—”

“Uncle Jensen!” Tom shouts, launching himself into Jensen’s waist for a hug and promptly head-butting his nuts.

“ _Oh fu—dge_ ” Jensen coughs, barely catching himself as he hunches forward. His stomach burns. His vision flashes white. _This is it. This is how it all ends._ “I—I think I’m gonna be sick” he wheezes, clutching the side of the kitchen island for support.

“Tom! Oh—god, I’m sorry! He’s been super hyper all day. Tom! Apologize right now!” Gen scolds, and Tom immediately hangs his head, cheeks burning and he mumbles a sad apology.

Jensen coughs some more as he tries to wave off the attention. “No biggie—s’all good. I’m fine” even though shocks of pain are still rippling through his joints in rapid intervals. He squints up at Tom and gives him a pat on the shoulder, and then he looks to Jared who is clearly trying to hold in a laugh.

“You okay?” Shep asks, walking up beside his brother and leaning in to check on his uncle.

“Yup, yup. I’m cool, bud. I just—”

“Where’s JJ?” Shep cuts in again; and it’s obvious that _that’s_ what he really wanted to ask.

“She’s in her room, sweetheart” Danneel calls out—still standing by the stove; and with that, two of the Little-Leckis go bolting towards the stairs to head up to JJ’s room; and soon enough, Odette is wriggling out of Jared’s arms to go follow them.

He watches her tiny diapered-body chase after her brother before his vision tracks back to his wife. “I’m fine by the way” Jensen grunts, and Danneel just smiles at him as she shakes her head. He frowns “We won’t be able to have any more kids though, so don’t ask.”

“That’s fine _._ Four is enough” she says, not even looking at him now.

“Four? Wh—” Jensen begins.

“She’s calling _you_ a child, dude” Jared cuts in, breaking his silence for the first time since he walked in the door.

“Oh” Jensen laughs half-heartedly, surprised by how much he’s missed simply hearing Jared’s voice. After a few more seconds, the blinding pain subsides into a dull ache and Jensen can finally straighten out his body—standing up tall to try and straighten out his confidence too. “Want a beer, man?” he asks, looking Jared in the eyes, hoping that the guy understands that he’s actually offering a beer with a side of peace-talks.

“Sounds good” Jared says softly.

Genevieve smiles, giving her husband’s hip a squeeze and then walking over to pat Jensen on the shoulder. “Sorry again” she mutters before heading into the kitchen to hug Danneel. The two are immediately deep in conversation, leaving Jensen and Jared to stand in awkward silence a moment more.

“ _Uh_ —how ‘bout we head out to the deck?” Jensen asks, feeling like they need some quiet if they’re going to have any chance of maintaining a train of thought.

Jared nods at him. “Sure.”

“Alright cool. Meet you out there.” Jensen says, watching Jared turn and head for the door before he goes back into the kitchen to grab the beers. He’s wincing with each step and he hears Jared snickering behind him; but he smiles to himself, happy that at least his dislocated testicles can ease the pain of their impending conversation.

_Silver-linings._

The sounds of screeching, laughing children fill the house and the dog is barking in the distance, but Jensen shuts it all in with the sliding glass door.

“So …”

“So” Jensen repeats, walking over to join Jared by the deck-rail as he looks out over the backyard and on to the lake beyond the fence line. He’s not really sure where to go from here, but apparently Jared is.

“Look, man. I know you’re pissed at me for not going with you to that meeting, but you gotta understand—”

Jensen pulls his beer away from his lips and gawks at him “What? I’m not pissed at you. You’re the one who’s pissed at me!”

“What? No I’m not! Why would you think that?”

“ _Because_ … I’m trying to change the finale—and you _like_ the finale.”

“You seriously think I’m that petty? That I’d be pissed at you because you disagree with me on a script?”

“Well, you haven’t talked to me in two weeks, so …”

“ _You_ haven’t talked to _me_ either!” Jared spits, throwing his arms out to the side and accidentally sloshing his beer over the side of the deck. “Oh—shit” he mutters, quickly pulling his beer back and sucking up the foam.

Jensen chuckles, taking a moment to breathe in the cool evening air and wrap his mind around what they’re saying. “So, let me get this straight … we were both not talking to each other because we both thought the other was pissed even though neither of us were actually pissed about anything?”

Jared laughs now too. “Looks that way.”

“Wow. We’re idiots” Jensen sighs, finally turning to lean on the railing and look out across the water as it reflects the evening colors.

“Yeah” Jared says, matching Jensen’s stance as he swigs the rest of his beer.

They stay like that a while, listening to crickets prepare their chorus songs, and the air grows a sharp chill as the chill between them finally thaws.

“They agreed to let me sit in while they discuss some changes” Jensen says at long last, watching his friend out of the corner of his eye to see how he’ll react.

“Oh yeah?” is all Jared says, barely moving a muscle as he blinks in the dimming light.

“ _Yeah_ —but they’ll have to go through Pedowitz to be approved.”

 _That_ makes Jared draw back and face him. “Mark? _Really?_ It has to go _that_ high up for approval?”

Jensen could almost collapse with relief at the normalcy he’s feeling now, so he keeps one arm on the rail as he turns too. “Yeah. He was actually in the meeting last week. Guess he caught wind that I wanted to talk about the finale, so he came to supervise – make sure things weren’t going to change too much.”

“What do you mean? I don’t think he’s ever had a personal stake in the show writing before—why does he care now?”

“I dunno. He said they held focus groups and shit to figure out the best way to tie up the series. You know … to keep it profitable in the future; so, I think he’s just concerned about the bottom dollar.”

“ _Ah_ —always comes back to money, doesn’t it?” Jared says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, guess so.” Jensen takes a deep breath, steadying himself for what he should say next. “But … Mark _did_ say that he’s open to changing things if they don’t affect the overall intention of the script, so... ya know … just a heads up.”

Jared huffs a little and smiles. “You do realize, _I’m fine_ if the script ends up changing, right? It’s obviously not the first time they’ve re-written things. Hell, this is actually a lot more notice than we normally get for impending changes, so—it’s really not that big of a deal.”

Jensen furrows his brow. “You kinda made it seem like a big deal, man.”

Jared shrugs. “I was worked up about the show ending. Having that test-script in-hand made it all really _real,_ ya know? And we had just gotten back—and I was missing my kids, and I was reminiscing, and just … _too many_ _things_. I was emotional; but I wasn’t going to riot if the finale was changed. I just didn’t agree with your opinion on the thing; so, I didn’t want to go butt heads with network over it.”

“Oh… yeah, that makes sense.” Jensen reaches out and pats Jared’s shoulder. “Sorry, bud”

Jared flaunts a crooked smile. “Yeah, me too. Sorry I didn’t go with you, but I just can’t handle that kind of stress right now.”

“Tell me ‘bout it. I’m barely hanging on myself” Jensen grunts, finishing off his beer and then looking at the empty bottle with deep offense. “I’m all out. Want another?”

Jared nods.

“Alright” Jensen says, taking his friend empty bottle in hand as he heads back inside—feeling two sets of eyes burrowing into him the instant he gets through the door.

“So—did you and my husband make up yet?” Gen asks with Danneel glued at her side, both smiling fiendishly.

Jensen blushes a bit. “Yeah, yeah. We’re all good.”

“Thank God! He’s been moping around the house for weeks! He kept asking me if he should call you, but then was all ‘No, he needs space right now’. I swear, he’s insufferable every time you two get in a fight.”

“We weren’t in a—” Jensen stops, noting the already half-empty bottle of wine on the counter. _Ah, got it_. “You two seem to be enjoying yourselves” he laughs after a beat, walking past them to go back to the fridge.

“The kids are entertaining each other; the food is almost ready—my mopey husband can _finally_ liven up a bit, and I’m hanging out with my best friend!” Gen swings her arm around Danneel’s neck and kisses her cheek. “What more could a girl want?”

“More wine?” Jensen jokes.

“Oh! _Yes please!_ ” Genevieve answers, turning around to grab her glass. She’s refilling it a moment later and both Jensen and Danneel exchange knowing looks. Gen is a _very_ happy drunk, and she’s usually smashed after half a glass of anything _._

“Okay, well—pace yourself. Don’t wanna burn out before dessert.”

“Oh my God! _Dessert!_ I made pies! _So_ _many_ _pies!_ ” The woman squeals, and then gallops over to the other counter to showcase where her pies are resting. “I got an apple, a pecan, a chocolate mousse … _in honor of my husband of course_ , and then a pumpkin and a cherry!”

Jensen’s stomach grumbles. “They look and smell amazing, Shorty.”

The tiny woman does a little curtsy. “Thanks, Old Man!”

So, Jensen does an exaggerated bow before grabbing two more beers and hurrying back to the deck. He knows that if he stays inside too long, the happy wine-drunk women will begin teasing him, and his ego is still a little fragile for that, especially after that _nut-shot_ earlier. “They found the wine” Jensen says as soon as he slides the patio door shut.

“ _Uh oh_ … I’m in for a long night” Jared laughs, nodding as he takes the beer from Jensen’s hand.

“ _Eh_ , she’ll be asleep in a couple hours.”

“Yeah— _leaving me_ to wrangle all the kids.”

“It’s Christmas Eve, dude. Let them play until they pass out.”

Jared chuckles. “True, although—they probably won’t be as wiped as they usually are since West and Maison aren’t here leading the charge.”

Jensen’s heart dips in his chest. “Yeah. Those two are great at exhausting our kids.”

“Yeah.” Jared nods. “Hey—how’s Misha doing anyway? I texted him a few days ago but I just got a jumbled mess of letters in response.”

Jensen snorts “Yeah, not surprised. Vicki says the pain meds are making him pretty out of it; but he’s doing good. The surgery went well.”

“Good, good. I heard you got to spend some time together last week.”

The reminder causes a lump form in his throat. Just thinking about how good it was to have Misha all to himself for a few days makes his absence hurt all the more now. He misses smelling him on his skin, feeling his eyes on him when he spoke. Jensen sighs as he swallows it down. “Yeah. He came and stayed at the condo with me before my meeting.”

“That’s good. I’m sure it was nice for you to see him before he went to Chicago too.”

Jensen nods. “Yeah. We both needed it. I really miss him.”

Leaning forward, Jared puts his elbows on the rail and thumbs at the condensation sliding down the side of his beer. “I know, man … and, I’m sorry if I sounded like a dick about him not being in the finale. I wasn’t really thinking about how this all might feel for you two, ya know? Like … your relationship with him casts a whole different light on things. I was only thinking about it from my point of view, and that was pretty selfish of me.”

“It’s fine” Jensen says with a sigh. “I know you weren’t dissing him or anything. _Hell_ , he actually kinda agrees with you on the finale.”

Jared’s head snaps up. “ _What?_ Seriously?”

Jensen nods again. “Yeah. We were talking about it, and he says that the ending they have planned for Cas is what he has always wanted for the character, so he’s good with ending on that note and leaving the finale up to the brothers.”

“Really? _Huh_ … wasn’t expecting that.”

“Yeah, surprised me too.” Jensen takes another sip of his beer before remembering the other thing that surprised him, and he briefly wonders if he should tell Jared about it or not; but it’s not like Jared won’t find out anyway, plus—they’re all good now, and he tells the guy everything. “Oh—and _um_ … guess they’re finally going to make Dean and Cas a thing.”

Jared spits out his beer, causing a rainbow spray of mist to shower down on the grass below. “Wait, _WHAT?_ ”

Jensen smirks against his wrist. “Yeah. Guess they told Misha back in the beginning of the year that Cas was going to confess his love for Dean, and they were considering having Dean say it back. Don’t know if they landed on _that_ yet, but … yeah. _That’s happening_.”

“Holy shit! Holy fucking shit, dude!”

“I know.”

“No, but like … _holy shit!_ The fans are going to lose their fucking minds!” Jared squeals, sounding _just like_ one of those fans that will lose their fucking minds.

Now, Jensen can’t help but laugh too. “Alright, alright. Calm down. Nothing’s set in stone yet. Who knows, they may decide to change everything in a month.”

“True” Jared says, “but I hope they don’t. That sounds like it’s gonna be one hell of a moment.”

Jensen smiles, looking across the lake on to the horizon, where the blue is fading into the pink, purple haze of night. “Yeah. It would be.”

***

The house is quiet. The smell of ham and potatoes is still thick in the air, and the sweet tart of cherry pie is still on his lips. Jared fell asleep upstairs in the guest room while trying to get Odette down; and the rest of the kids are passed out in a dog pile in JJ’s room—along with the actual dog. And Danneel snuck off an hour ago for a relaxing, well-earned bath. Jensen breathes in the silence and that peaceful excitement of the impending Christmas morning like it’s the only thing keeping him whole, trying not to think too much about how he’s normally sharing this moment with Misha. How for the past five years, they’ve spent every Christmas Eve _together_ , all of them—as one big, happy family; and how when the rest of that big, happy family would eventually tap out for the night, it’s would leave just the two of them on their own, talking and cuddling together on the couch, eating leftovers. Fooling around with over-stuffed bellies until they finally fell asleep too.

_He really wishes Misha was here._

Jensen sighs and eventually heads back downstairs after checking on the kids, pulling out his phone along the way, hoping he can actually get a hold of the man—as long as he’s not too hopped up on meds to talk; but then Jensen stops when he sees Gen stirring on the couch. As predicted, she had fallen asleep shortly after they cut into the pies, and she’s been laying there peacefully ever since—her tiny body probably three-fifths wine at this point.

“ _Hm_ … oh, oh no..” she yawns, looking around groggily and stretching out her arms. “I fell asleep again, didn’t I?”

Jensen laughs. “Yup. _Every year_.”

She rolls her eyes as she yawns again, tapping the cushion beside her as an invitation for Jensen to come sit down.

He does, and as soon as he’s seated, Gen is snuggling into his side.

“I should be wrapping presents” she says sleepily.

“Yeah. Same here” Jensen says, knowing that Danneel _will_ _not_ feel like doing it after her bath; and he wouldn’t dare ask her to—especially after the amazing meal she prepared for them.

“I don’t wanna” Gen whines.

“Same here” Jensen repeats with a laugh. He tosses an arm around her and pulls her closer, and she nestles in, closing her eyes again before immediately falling back asleep. He looks at the top of her head as she softly snores, and he smiles, still wishing Misha was here, but happy that he’s not alone tonight. He has his second-sister by his side, and he and his best friend are back to normal, and with that peace of mind settled in his chest, he cozies down beside Gen and drifts off to sleep.

***

“Okay, okay—so let’s say Dean rescues Cas from The Empty…”

“That’s like an episode in and of itself! We _can’t_ do that!”

Bobo sighs. “We can do it _within_ an episode. It wouldn’t have to be the main plot point.”

Meredith nods her head to agree but Singer shakes his head in contrast.

“I’m with Andrew. That’ll pull too much focus away from the task at hand. We’re fighting Chuck and saving the world. That’s the vignette, and we need to keep the story _there_.”

The four writers continue to bicker and argue and toss possibilities across the table rapid fire; and Jensen can only watch it all like a spectator at a tennis match.

“This is ridiculous. We’ve already planned out the mini-reunion with everyone in heaven. Why not have Cas be a part of that?” Meredith says, causing the other three men to finally quiet down.

“I’ve _always_ been good with that idea” Bobo says, not surprising anyone.

But Andrew and Bob both sigh, as if _that_ _idea_ is just as ridiculous as all the others they’ve shot down.

“If we do that…” Andrew begins, side eyeing Jensen—and Jensen sinks a little in his seat, “Dean and Cas’s reunion will _still_ have to be the focus, and we’ve already established that it can’t be!”

“Then what about Jimmy?” Singer says suddenly, and everyone turns to him with the same confused look on their face. But Singer’s face is bright. “Yeah—okay, so hear me out … what if _Jimmy_ is part of the reunion scene? And we can have him dressed in plain clothes, and Amelia will be there too holding his hand, so Dean knows immediately that it isn’t Cas. And since he knows it’s not him, _boom_ , no emotional reunion.”

“But why would I— _Dean_ care about Jimmy?” Jensen says—accidentally thinking out loud.

Now, everyone turns their confused looks to _him_.

He blushes as he clears his throat. “I just mean—if the reunion scene is supposed to encompass everyone who’s been important to Dean throughout his life, why would _Jimmy_ be there? He wasn’t really anyone to Dean beyond being Cas’s vessel and Claire’s father.”

Andrew shrugs. “Well, those _were_ pretty important roles; plus—he’s one of the few characters the story has actually _followed_ to heaven, so it’s not like we haven’t already established his presence there.”

Now Bobo is nodding too. “Yeah, it does track I guess.”

Meredith agrees.

But none of that is making any sense to Jensen. When he was invited into this little brainstorming session with the writers, he thought it was to come up with _logical_ solutions to the currently ill-logical ending, but this is turning out to be pretty counterproductive. “ _So?_ I mean, I’m not a writer—so maybe I just don’t get it; but like, _Jimmy_ wasn’t important to Dean. _Cas was._ So, if Dean wants to see anybody in heaven, _it would be Castiel_.”

Bobo sighs, hanging his head, looking tired and defeated. “Jensen, I think what they’re trying to say is that the only way to have Misha in the final scenes that _won’t_ pull focus, is to have him there as Jimmy.”

“Seriously?” Jensen hisses, “That’s the _only_ _way?_ ”

Bobo, Bob and Andrew all look to one another and then nod, but Meredith seems deep in thought.

“Well …” she begins, and it makes Jensen sit very straight in his seat, hopeful that the woman can save him. She looks around the small room to each of the men, “what if Cas is also there—just not in the group reunion scene? What if he’s there later on—”

“I already said, we _can’t_ let Dean and Cas have any face time!” Andrew groans, but Meredith holds up her hand to silence him.

“Let me finish” and soon, she’s sitting straighter too. “So, we’re post-reunion, and Dean has gotten in the Impala for his long drive through heaven; meanwhile, we’re cutting back to Sam down on Earth— _married, kids, getting old, yada-yada_. But then, towards the end of the montage, we cut back to Dean driving down the road—‘Carry On’ has played over halfway through, and we get to the part of the song that says ‘surely heaven waits for you’ and that’s when we pan _away_ from the car to a far-off field overlooking the road, and we see _Castiel_ , tracking the Impala with his eyes, looking at her drive, _looking at Dean_ , and he smiles, tears in his eyes, happy to see Dean finally at peace—and the grass grows greener around him, and the sky gets more blue; and when we switch back to Dean, he looks away from the road a moment— _not at Cas_ , but just in quiet contemplation, and then he smiles, and the audience knows that they _feel_ each other there. They feel each other and they both know they’re not alone anymore; and then Dean drives on, and Cas vanishes with the sound of wings behind him, letting them have their moment together—separate, _but together_ , leaving _just enough_ room for interpretation.” She turns to Bobo and gives him a wink. “It’ll be just the right amount of _subtext._ ”

Jensen exhales hard, feeling wiped out from her words, but he has to admit—that’s the best thing he’s heard all day.

“Wow … yeah, _okay_ ” Andrew says breathlessly, “ _yeah_ I can see that.”

Bob nods as well, but his approval doesn’t seem as enthusiastic; meanwhile, Bobo looks like he’s near tears.

Meredith smiles. “I mean, if our hands are tied and we can’t give them the reunion they deserve, that seems like a safe alternative in my opinion. It won’t really pull focus, but it will _divert_ _it_ a bit, just for a second—and the implications are all still there.”

Andrew smiles. “Yeah, no—I like it. I think that’s a really viable option.” Then he looks across the table to Jensen, eyes wide and hopeful. “How does that sound? Better?”

And, _yeah—it does_. It’s still not the ending he’s always envisioned for the show, and if he could, he’d change so much more; but Jensen knows a _win_ when he sees one, and he’s not about to go and pick it apart just because he got the chance to sit at the table where it all happens. “Yeah. That—that sounds like a pretty good option to me.”

The four writers all turn to smile at one another, finally clicking their pens and tapping on their laptops, noting the changes for the next round of re-writes, leaving the completely-out-of-his-depth actor alone in his thoughts. He may not be getting a “Blaze of Glory” ending, but at least there’s a chance he’ll be ending it all with Misha at his side— _where he should be_ , where Jensen _always_ wants him.

That’s what’ll make any ending, _the right one._


	3. Chapter 3

He had apologized to Kripke. He was a dick to him, and now that there was a bit of hope that the finale _won’t suck,_ Jensen’s dark clouds of resentment had started to clear, so he called Eric up and apologized as soon as his meeting with the writers was over; but to his surprise, Eric met his apology with a job offer, and it had his head spinning the entire ride back to set.

“I’m so proud of you, babe!” Danneel laughs, looking at the pictures he sent her with a glowing grin. “You’re gonna love this role!”

Jensen is bouncing on his heels, already excited about the prospects of the character. “I think so too. It’s pretty fuckin’ edgy, and _I can’t wait_ to be uncensored.”

“So, Eric just offered it to you? Just like that?”

“Yeah” Jensen shrugs. “I called him to tell him sorry for yelling at him before, and he just said ‘Oh, that’s fine—anyway, want to play Soldier Boy?’ I didn’t even know what to say at first—he caught me totally off guard.”

“Yeah, I bet; but this is so cool!”

“What’s cool?” JJ asks, her little face popping onto the screen a second later.

Jensen’s heart grows at the sight of his little girl, so he hurries to his trailer’s small couch so he can prop his iPad up on the coffee table and wave at her. “Hi, Jaybird! How’d school go today?”

JJ shrugs. “It was fine. We started making Valentine’s Day cards though. Mine has _so much glitter!_ ”

“Really? Wow! I bet it’s beautiful! But no giving your card to anybody but me, okay? You’re not allowed to be in love yet.”

“Daddy!” she laughs, rolling her eyes and looking just like her mother.

“Yeah— _Daddy!_ Don’t be so old fashioned!” Danneel scolds, her tone warm and teasing.

“Well, I’m old … and I’m pretty fashionable, so I think _old-fashioned_ suits me just fine.”

“ _Daddy_ ” JJ laughs again before sliding back out of frame.

“Woah, hey— _hey now_ , where’s my kiss and loves?” Jensen grunts, and his daughter reappears on his screen immediately.

She bends down and kisses the glass and then whispers “Love you, Daddy.”

 _He could melt_. He could melt into a puddle and die right now and be one hundred percent content with it because he has the best kids ever. “Love you too, baby girl.”

With that, JJ is gone again, leaving Danneel alone on the call. “Your flight was okay?”

Jensen nods. “Yeah, long though. That trip always seems longer after a break—and then with the meeting starting right after I landed… it’s been like four days in one.”

“I bet” but her words dip at the end, and her eyes wander elsewhere, making Jensen worry.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

Danneel looks back towards the camera, pinching her mouth into the edge of her cheek. “Just all this virus stuff. It’s freaking me out.”

Jensen nods. “I know. The network wants to start briefing us on what we might have to do when this thing spreads outside of China.”

“God—I really hope it’s not as bad as everyone’s saying.”

“I know; but we’ll stay safe over here, so you guys do the same down there. I already bought extra hand sanitizer online and it should be getting to the house in a couple days.”

Danneel smiles at him and tilts her head, looking soft and beautiful, and he really wishes he could reach through the screen and touch her right now. “Thanks, babe. You’re always lookin’ out for us.”

“You’re my world … of course I’m gonna look out for you.”

A knock on his trailer door bursts his bubble, and Jensen looks up at it with a disapproving groan. “I think they’re ready for me, so I gotta go.”

Danneel frowns but eventually concedes. “Alright. Give my love to Misha, and tell him I’m glad he’s back on his feet— _literally_.”

“I will. And kiss the kids for me. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He says goodbye to his wife and then grab’s Dean’s jacket from the hook near the door, heading out of his trailer a moment later to be greeted by one of the PAs.

“They’re setting up the mics for you now, Mr. Ackles.”

“Thanks” he says, shrugging on the jacket before moving down the walkway towards set.

“Hey!”

Misha’s voice sings to him like a wind chime, gentle and welcoming, and Jensen whips around—already beaming before he even has the man in his sights. “ _Mish_ ” he breathes, leaving the assistant far behind him as he speeds back towards his trailer.

Misha waits for him, but Jensen jerks his head towards the trailer door—gesturing that the man should get inside. Misha nods and quickly does as he’s told.

“M-Mr. Ackles?” the assistant calls after him, but Jensen slams the door as soon as he’s inside again, and then he locks it for good measure, charging at Misha the second they’re alone.

Blue widens—a white tooth grin turns pink with gums, then tongue, and Jensen’s lips are on his with hands in his hair, and he’s whispering “I missed you” and “I love you” like they’re the only words he knows. And Misha is saying them back, mirroring Jensen in touch and sentiment, holding him skin to skin as soon as they can do away with their clothes.

“Why the fuck do they put you in so many layers?” Misha complains, finally yanking off Jensen’s belt and pulling down his pants.

Jensen laughs—until he does the same to Misha, immediately noticing the three small, red scars on each of his hips. He reaches out and touches them gently with this thumb, gliding across the raised skin like a gust of air. “Do they hurt?”

Misha shakes his head. “No. I’m a little sore if I overexert myself, but I’m pretty much back to normal now.”

“Well—” Jensen smiles, leaning in again to kiss Misha slow and deep, long enough to taste every bit of him and revel in his sweetness like a good wine, “how about I take it easy on you, _just this once?_ ”

“Oh?” Misha chuckles, but he’s already perking up in all the right places. “Does that mean what I think it means?

Jensen grins, dropping to his knees while running his hands down the back of Misha’s thighs. He looks up again, licking his lips as he strips the man down the rest of the way, needing to consume him in every way possible. As he moves, he takes himself in hand and begins to stroke, and soon—he’s moaning around Misha’s cock just as much as Misha is moaning above him; and he’s sure that they can be heard through the thin walls of the trailer, but they haven’t seen each other in over two months and there is absolutely nothing on earth that could keep Jensen from showing Misha _just_ how much he missed him—how much he needs him, how much he’s willing to put on hold just for the chance to hold him in his hands.

They walk onto set—exhausted but happy, only to be greeted by raucous round of applause. It takes a second for their eyes to adjust from the sunny day outside, but once they do—they see the entire crew gathered together, each one either in a wheelchair, or on crutches, or leaning against a walker. Jake and Alex are already dressed in their “Michael” and “Jack” clothes, but they’re sitting in wheelchairs – popping wheelies as they hoot and holler Misha’s name.

_What the hell?_

But Misha apparently gets it, and he’s the first one to crack, barking out a laugh just as Jared shuffles through the crowd, dressed like an old man—cardigan, glasses, a horrible gray wig atop his head, and he’s leaning on a cane as he pushes past everyone to make his way over to them.

“S’cuse me, sonny. Pardon me—oh, _watch it!_ ” Jared mutters in a horribly cliché “old man voice”.

“Oh my merciful lord” Jensen gasps; and as if that were their cue, the rest of the group starts to shuffle around the set, all groaning and talking about aches and pains, and all the annoying kids that are “on their lawns”, and Jensen briefly wonders if this is what the set of the Golden Girls was like.

Misha is flat out _wheezing_ now, doubled over from the sight of everyone putting on this little show.

Jared inches closer to try and poke him with his cane. “What’re you laughing at? You’re one of us too!” he garbles, but he’s already breaking character with small snickers and snorts.

“I’m _old_ , not clinically insane!” Misha laughs, quickly dodging another prod from the cane.

The crowd finally parts to reveal a table at the back of the room—on it, a cake that says “Welcome Back, Old Man Collins!”

And Misha is busting up all over again as he walks over to take a closer look, getting swarmed with hugs and well-wishes from every direction the moment he does; and Jensen can do nothing but watch in awe.

“I can’t believe you put all this together” he says, once Jared finally stopped trying to assault Misha with his cane and came back to stand beside him.

“ _Eh_ —no big deal” Jared laughs, clapping a second later as someone hands Misha the card they all signed for him along with a present.

“No, it _is_ a big deal. Thanks, man” Jensen says, pulling Jared down into a hug—and it was probably too full of feeling, but he felt like he was overflowing with feeling right now.

Jared just chuckles and hugs him back, finally letting go to lean on Jensen’s shoulder as they both continue to watch Misha have his moment. “I just thought … _you know,_ ” Jared says—finally in his _normal_ voice, “after his surgery, plus everything that _may_ or _may not_ happen with the finale … I just thought he needed to know how much we all care about him.”

His friend’s consideration causes Jensen’s eyes to burn, so he nods quickly and looks away to keep from getting misty. “It’s sweet, man … _incredibly weird_ , but really sweet.”

“Ha! Yeah, well … it started as a prank” Jared says.

“Yeah _, I figured that_.” Jensen laughs, clearing his throat to stifle his pesky emotions. “How the hell did you find so many walkers anyway?”

“Bought ‘em” Jared answers nonchalantly.

“Seriously?” Misha asks, walking over just in time to catch the tail-end of their conversation.

Jared rolls his eyes. “Yes— _really_. But don’t worry, this is all getting donated to senior centers in the area. They won’t go to waste.”

“Aww!” Misha smiles, and now his eyes are looking wet too. “Jared, that’s amazing! Thank you! Thank you for all of this!” He reaches out and gives Jared a hug, and Jensen watches them embrace—loving these moments when the two show their softer sides.

“Yeah, yeah—I have to be nice _sometimes_ , I guess.”

“Well— _yeah_ , you can’t do it too much or else you’ll sully your reputation!” Misha laughs

“Exactly!” And then Jared smacks Misha on the back before turning once more to Jensen. “So—what took you guys so long anyway? I sent that PA over to get you nearly thirty minutes ago.”

Heat rises up Jensen’s neck as he shrugs. “Oh, I _uh_ —”

“He was blowing me” Misha says without a second thought.

“Jesus, Mish!” Jensen hisses, ducking his head down as if he can hide from what the guy just announced.

“What? Be proud, it was _very good_ blowjob.”

“Oh, does he do that thing where he tongues the tip? I _love_ when Gen does that” Jared moans, eyes rolling into the back of his head, acting like _that thing_ is being done to him right now.

“Oh yeah— _that_ , and then he nibbles on it, sorta teasing it with his teeth, ya know?”

Jared moans again. “Fuck, yeah—that’s the good shit right there.”

Jensen thinks he might be having a stroke. “Will you two fucking _stop?_ ” he yelps, feeling helplessly exposed as more of the crew walk by.

“Just trying to give you props, babe” Misha says, blinking innocently.

“Yeah, Jackles—accept the compliment. Hell, I almost want to go gay just to see your skills.”

“I wouldn’t blow you even if you paid me!” Jensen hisses, turning even redder as his frustration mixes with the embarrassment.

“Don’t be so sure. I’m about to make that _Walker Texas Ranger_ money. You may just need a loan someday” Jared laughs.

Misha gasps, smacking Jared’s arm suddenly before pointing off to his right. “Hey— _walker!_ ” he shouts, pointing and laughing at one of the two dozen walkers that are now standing abandoned around the set.

Jared barks out laugh too, leaving Jensen to stand there and gawk at them.

“That’s not even _remotely funny_ ” he says, mostly to himself because sometimes, he’s truly baffled how either of these men are his friends.

After another oblivious moment, Jared settles again and turns back to him, finally tapping Misha’s shoulder to bring _his_ attention back too. “Hey, dude—I think you need to give _him_ a BJ. He seems pretty grumpy.”

Misha puts his hand on his chin and studies Jensen a while, as if he’s a word-jumble ready to be solved. “Well, he _did_ cum when I did, but you might be right. There’s something extra-calming about a blowie. Do you need me to give you that _good-suck_ , babe?”

Jensen opens his mouth—ready to tell them both to _go fuck themselves_ , when the director starts calling everyone to set. “Oh thank god!” he mutters, doing an about-face and bolting for the stage. He leaves Jared and Misha in the dust, along with all their immature teasing, wondering for the millionth time how he always finds himself in these situations. _They’re worse than frat boys_ , he thinks, finally making his way over to the make-up chair, _they’re fucking middle-schoolers!_

They shot the first few minutes of the scene without incident—but then came _Jensen’s_ coverage.

He was supposed to be acting angry, and considering how annoying his co-stars were earlier, Jensen thought that tapping into that would be easier than usual; but then … _Jared catches his eye_. He’s standing just behind Misha who’s also in this scene, but he’s far off enough that none of the cameras can see him; and then—slowly, and with quite a lot of moaning, Jared sticks the end of one of their prop-knives in mouth and pushes against the inside of his cheek, causing it to bulge out—over and over with every time he bobs his head.

Jensen’s eyes go wide; however, he manages to keep his composure—because the cameras are still rolling and he needs to get his lines out … plus, it’s not like Jared _hasn’t_ done this shit before. But then Jake and Alex stride up beside the porny-moose, each holding a hair brush in their hands, and with the handles upright, they slip them into each other’s mouths and start moaning too—loud and dirty. Jensen gapes as he watches them all, now completely forgetting the words that Dean is supposed to be saying to Cas. So, in a last-ditch effort to remain professional, he turns to Misha—hoping for some sort of cue, or at least, a distraction from the _lewd_ distractions happening in the background, but as soon as he focuses back on that beautiful man he fell in love with five years ago, Misha pulls out his angel-blade, flipping it round so he can start sucking on the hilt like he’s auditioning for a Barely-Legal video.

“For fuck’s sake!” Jensen spits, unable to hold it in anymore, and he arches backwards to laugh up at the scaffolded ceiling—so hard, he starts to cry.

Then the rest of the crew erupts too, completely ruining the take, as well as the overall scene—but no one seems to care; because _this_ is what working on this show is all about— _this_ is what makes it so special.

 _These_ are the memories he’ll cling to after the end.

***

The rest of the month is more or less the same as it’s always been—a lot of long days, a lot of fooling around, and a lot of late nights spent with his best friends having the time of his life; but the pandemic that’s creeping across the world is in the back of everyone’s mind, and Jensen can feel the anxiety building on set. The network still hasn’t told them if they’ll have to close down production, so there’s nothing that they can do except go through the motions as usual; and they’re all aware that if they _do_ close down, it might mean more changes are on the horizon. But after Pedowitz _finally_ gave Meredith’s alternative finale-scene the green-light, Jensen simply _can’t_ handle anymore change right now—anything more might break him. Sometimes, he thinks that if he can just _will it_ hard enough, he might be able to stop time; but so far—he hasn’t had the strength, because whatever will he’s had in the past few weeks has been syphoned into preparing for this next scene … _the scene_ , the scene that he has both _been looking forward to_ as well as _dreading_ for months.

They had already filmed all the lead-ins, and they were able to keep things light for the most part, pretending as if this were any other episode—even though the network watchdogs were hovering more closely than usual. This episode is the beginning of the end, and Pedowitz has made it very clear that no one is allowed to stray from the party-line; but that didn’t keep some from trying anyway.

“I love that idea!” Richard exclaims, looking at Misha’s hand like it’s holding the key to heaven.

“What idea?” Jensen asks, glancing up from his pages to the two men standing just a few feet away.

Misha and Rich both turn to him, expressions bright—yet dubious.

“Misha just said we should have a callback to the handprint … since he just did the scene with the sigil— _his hand is red anyway_.”

Jensen furrows his brow but then pieces it together a second later. “Oh! Oh, that’s good!” he laughs, getting up from his seat and leaving the pages behind.

“Right? We were thinking I could grab your shoulder and then hug you right before I’m taken.”

“ _No_.” The woman’s voice cuts in, slicing through their growing enthusiasm like a weedwhacker. She saunters up to their small group, already shaking her head. “The network won’t allow any more changes at this point.” Her name is Karen and she’s probably everyone’s _least_ favorite CW drone.

Richard groans. “It’s not even really a change! It’s just an extra visual—a visual that’s also representative of pre-established canon. It is literally not going to change a thing about the scene. It’ll only add more emotional impact for the viewer.”

“I don’t know what _you’re_ talking about, but I heard Mr. Collins here mention a hug; and from what I’ve seen in the script, there’s not any physical contact of that sort between the characters in this scene.”

“These characters have hugged before” Jensen mumbles, really not getting why they’re getting policed at this level.

“The hug sends the wrong message” Karen snips, side eyeing him like he’s a gnat buzzing too close to her face.

“What if it’s not a hug then” Misha offers quickly, and Karen lifts her chin up—a reluctant gesture that he should continue. Misha clears his throat. “You see, we want to make a callback to the handprint that was left on Dean’s shoulder back in season 4—when Castiel was first introduced. It will be a nice ‘full-circle’ moment. However, that handprint needs to get there somehow, so … what if it’s not by a hug? What if I just put my hand on his shoulder?”

“What’s the context” Karen asks quickly, and Jensen can feel the air start to buzz with excitement again, because Misha may have just talked the woman into it.

“Castiel is just saying goodbye. He’ll put his hand on Dean’s shoulder just before he’s taken by the Empty.”

Karen thinks for a moment and then holds up a finger. “Let me run this past the people upstairs and get back to you.”

“Seriously?” Jensen grunts, but he’s immediately met with a sour look.

“I will just be a moment” Karen hisses before turning away and lifting her phone to her ear.

Once she’s far enough, Richard let’s out a slow whistle. “Wow—the stick up her ass must have _a lot_ of splinters.” Jensen and Misha chuckle and agree. “But, it sounds like she’s leaning our way. Good job, buddy” Rich says a moment later, patting Misha hard on the back.

Misha gives him a crooked smile. “Yeah, _maybe._ We’ll see.”

Jensen looks between the other men, wishing things didn’t have to be this way. It was an awesome idea, and they’re the ones who are actually _living_ this show and see the effects it has on the viewers. They should be given a little bit of leeway. “I just don’t get it. It’s not _that_ big of a deal.”

“You know how it is, man. The network wants their finger in everything” Richard grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest with a grimace. “I just wish I knew _when_ and _how hard_ they were gonna finger-bang us … _woulda shaved first_.”

Misha and Jensen are laughing again, because Richard can _always_ lighten the mood no matter the circumstances; yet, their humor quickly dies at their feet when Karen walks back to re-join them—still looking at her phone.

“So, they’ve okayed the handprint, but not the shoulder-touch _per say_. They want it to happen when Cas shoves Dean out of the way of the Empty.”

“Okay … I guess we can make that work. Won’t look as natural though” Richard says, and Jensen is nodding in agreement.

As it is now, the script says that Dean tries to pull Cas away when the Empty appears, but Cas shoves him back, which they had choreographed with Cas’s hands on Dean’s _chest_ , not really on his shoulder; but the more he thinks about it—the more he sees this as another win he shouldn’t try to fight.

Karen seems unphased by Richard’s concerns however, and she goes back to looking at her phone. “I’ll be looking over that footage to make sure it meets the requirement” and she turns away again and walks back behind the sound-deck, leaving the three men to all glance between each other, uneasy and anxious with just how threatening that sounds.

Eventually—the scene is set for the big finale of the episode, and the time has come for Misha to take his place, so Jensen goes off to find him.

“Are you ready?” he asks Misha once he spots him huddled alone in the corner of the studio.

He had asked to be left alone for a few minutes to get himself in the right headspace, but Jensen knows that the guy has actually been in that headspace for days—and this alone-time was more or less an attempt to keep himself together and _not_ cry before his cue. “I think so” Misha says quietly, looking over his shoulder at Jensen with sad eyes. “I just can’t believe this is really it.”

He sits down beside him, and for a moment, he thinks Misha is talking about the big love-confession, but then he realizes, the man is referring to his last studio-take. “I know. It’s bittersweet.”

“Just _bitter_ from where I’m sitting” Misha says, nodding towards Karen who is standing near the director’s station, still tapping away on her phone. Misha grumbles something his breath and then looks to the ceiling, blinking fast, obviously trying not to cry again.

“Don’t say that” Jensen pleads, leaning over to hug the man from the side. “I know this sucks—the network sucks, plus having to say goodbye to a bunch of people—to _family_ really sucks, but you don’t want to miss the good moments because you’re too busy dreading the bad.”

With pursed lips, Misha nods and hugs himself tighter. “Yeah, you’re right. I need to snap out of it—this should be a happy day—a day to celebrate. We’re about to do something huge.”

Jensen rubs the man’s back before looking around to make sure no one is watching—and then he bends in and kisses his shoulder.

Misha smiles instinctively and leans their heads together, and they stay like that for a long moment—until Richard appears behind them to say that they’re ready to roll. Jensen nods, standing up shortly after and offering Misha his hand. “Let’s go, babe” he whispers, helping Misha back to his feet.

They start in right after the sigil had been painted on the door— the two of them, walking back into the rear of the room, with Jensen’s lines coming first, and he’s already choking up as he begins to speak; but thankfully—the script calls for it. So, he talks about _Sam_ and _Jack_ , how they “should be there with them”—as a loud _bang_ rings out every thirty seconds to represent Billie pounding on the door. Jensen looks up with the noise, watching as Misha— _Cas_ , moves toward him slowly, worry strewn across his face, pain and hopelessness, longing and love; and Jensen wonders briefly if the man is acting in this moment, or if he even has to. “She’s going to get through that door—and she’s going to kill _you_ , and then she’s going to kill me.” Jensen takes a deep breath, trying to keep himself from losing it too soon. “I’m sorry” he finally whispers, knowing that once he’s said that line, they’ll cut and switch to Misha’s coverage; and then it’ll be _that time_ … it’ll be time for them to actually say the words out loud.

Richard cuts the scene and everyone is quiet, moving sluggishly around the cameras and lights; and it’s not often that the crew is so somber; but everyone knows what’s coming, and no one feels ready to watch it all happen.

Once they’re set again—the crew checks Misha’s mic and they fix his jacket, and Jensen steps in and loosens the man’s tie, because _that’s_ how Misha had it when they first met all those years ago, _him as Dean, Misha as Cas._ Jensen had no idea that this quirky, strange, seemingly _method-actor_ would consume his life so completely, but here they are—eleven years later … _in love_ , and _not_ just in real life.

“Scene twenty-five, take one, _marker_.” The slate crashes, cameras roll—and Misha begins to speak. He’s mesmerizing, and Jensen is watching, listening, and so happy that he’s not currently the one on screen, because he has no idea what his face is doing right now, and he doesn’t care.

“… because the one thing I want—is something I know I can’t have.” Misha’s voice is deep, rasping in the echo of the angel’s, and Jensen stands steady in that depth, letting it ground him in the fact that _this isn’t real_ … _he doesn’t really have to say goodbye to his best friend_ ; but then, Misha’s voice changes. “But—I think I know, I think I know now … happiness isn’t in the _having_ , it’s in just _being_ …” Misha’s voice cracks, breaking the angel’s hard surface in two to reveal the gentle man within—the one that means so much and gives all of himself to the world, and never asks for anything in return.

Jensen’s heart seizes in his chest as _that man, his man_ starts speaking to him now, and it shakes his body like an earthquake.

Misha goes on. “… it’s in just _saying_ _it_.” Tears are filling his eyes, making them look impossibly big and fragile, and Jensen sucks in a breath, forgetting his line as his heart breaks, character— _breaking,_ his dam breaking down.

“Cut” Richard calls softly, and Jensen has to turn away.

He walks towards the wall of the set with his hands on his hips, choking on his tears and his racing heart.

Misha follows him step for step, stopping as they reach the corner so they can huddle close. “Are _you_ okay?” he asks, chuckling through his words but his voice is still obviously heavy with emotion.

Jensen shakes his head. “Just hit me all of a sudden.”

Those blue eyes are trained on him, and his love is relentless. “Yeah, me too” Misha whispers.

“Hey—hey guys, you’re doing great” Richard says, coming up behind them again but he’s talking low so no one else can hear, obviously forgetting that Jensen and Misha are still micced up, so literally _everyone_ can hear.

“Thanks, we just need a minute” Misha says, rubbing Jensen’s back like _he_ did for him only moments ago.

“Yeah no problem; I just wanted to say— _Misha_ , when you slipped into your normal speaking voice, that was great. It was really powerful stuff, so don’t worry if you do it again in the next take.”

Misha stops rubbing Jensen’s back. “I did? I didn’t even realize—”

“What’d ya think got to me, man?” Jensen spits, finally looking over at him with tears running down his face.

“O—oh, _okay_ … Rich, we’re gonna step out for a bit.” Misha states, pulling up his shirt as hey says it to switch off his mic pack; and then he does the same to Jensen’s.

“Oh, _uh_ —yeah, sure” the man says, not really having a choice now that the mics will need to be reset anyway. “Okay, take five before reset, people!” he announces, and Misha pulls Jensen off the set once Rich turns around.

They rush past the crew and out the large stage doors, but once they’re outside, Jensen can’t stop himself from completely falling apart.

“ _Shh_ , Jensen—oh god, are you alright?” Misha asks, pulling Jensen into his arms and running his hand up and down the base of his neck.

Hugging him tight, Jensen shakes his head and sobs into Misha’s shoulder.

“Oh, sweetheart” Misha whispers, holding him, rocking him, and letting him take his time to settle down.

“Sorry” Jensen shutters after another minute, finally feeling like he can pull away and look Misha in the eye again.

“It got real, didn’t it?” the man asks, keeping Jensen’s gaze to ensure he won’t shy away.

“Yeah—especially when you just … _used your own voice_. That hit me _hard_.”

“I get that. I would say I’ll try to keep it in character from now on, but I guess Rich likes the break.”

“He’s right … it _is_ powerful” Jensen says with a huff. “The fans will be blubbering almost as much as me.”

“Well—I wouldn’t go _that_ far” Misha chuckles, and that makes Jensen laugh too. “Are you about ready to head back in?”

He takes a few deep breaths and then looks at the door to the stage, wondering if he just drags Misha away _now_ , could he stop this moment from ever happening? But he knows that he can’t—because this is _Misha’s time_ , it’s Misha’s day, and this show will end one way or another, so he needs to let the guy shine all that he can before the reel ends and they all fade to black. “Yeah … I think I’m ready. Let’s go.”

It took another thirty minutes to reset, re-check the sound and de-puff Jensen’s tear-soaked eyes, but once everything was back in place, they rolled through the rest of Misha’s coverage without incident. Then they did Jensen’s second half with the stunts, as well as several takes with the new handprint scene, running it through over and over until Karen was satisfied that it wasn’t too intimate. But then—Richard being _Richard,_ needed _variety_ ; so, he reset for _one more series_ where the coverage was on the both of them—running through the entire scene from start to finish in real time, getting genuine reactions on both sides and feeling everything in a raw moment, as if it was all actually happening right here and now. It wasn’t necessarily _new_ for them to shoot this way; but given the emotions they were all already feeling, both Jensen and Misha were dreading the take.

But when Richard called “Ready”, everyone cleared their stations to move ahead.

The slide crashed, the cameras rolled, and once again, they started saying their lines—easing into the pain little by little, trying to hold each other just above the breaking point, keeping the tension, keeping the feeling, keeping each other hanging on until it was finally time to let go.

> “But—I think I know, I think I know now … happiness isn’t in the _having_ , it’s in just _being_ , it’s in just _saying_ _it_.”
> 
> “What are you talking about, man?”
> 
> “I know. I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. _You're destructive and you're angry and you're broken._ You're – you're "Daddy's Blunt Instrument." And you think that hate and anger that's – that's what drives you. That's who you are, but _it's not_. And everyone who knows you, _sees it_. Everything you have ever done, the _good_ and the _bad …_ you have done for _love_. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for _love_. _That is who you are_. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell, knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, _I cared_. I cared about you. I cared about Sam. I cared about Jack. I cared about the whole world because of _you_. You changed me, Dean.”
> 
> “Don’t … _no_ , don’t do this, Cas. Why are you saying this?”
> 
> “I think you know why … I think you’ve always known.”
> 
> “No— _no_.”
> 
> “ _Dean_ …”
> 
> “No!”
> 
> “I know you’re scared, but you don’t have to be, not anymore. I have faith. I have faith in you more than I ever had in God. You have always proven yourself, and you have always done the right thing, the _good_ thing. And I know that after this, you will go on to save the world _one more time_. I am going to make sure of that. I’ll make sure you’re okay.”
> 
> “Wh-why does this sound like a goodbye?”
> 
> “ _Because_ _it is_.”
> 
> “Castiel—please, don’t … don’t leave me.”
> 
> “It’s the only way.”
> 
> “No, Cas— _no_ …”
> 
> “I love you.”
> 
> “ _Cas, please_ —”
> 
> “Goodbye, Dean.”
> 
> “No!”
> 
> The Empty appears, and all too quickly—the angel is gone.
> 
> “Cas…? _Cas?_ Ca—” Dean sobs, “Cas, _please_ …”
> 
> The room is still once more.
> 
> “Cas … I … _me too_.”

“Cut.”

***

The window is pale white with moonlight, so the beige walls of his trailer feel warm and safe, allowing the two of them to shut out the rest of the world and shut down their minds, slipping in and out of daydreams, halfheartedly pretending like the last twenty-four hours never happened, and no goodbyes had to be said. No final scenes had to be filmed. No characters had to lose one another, meaning neither of them had to lose the characters that they know and love.

“I don’t think I have any liquid left in my body” Misha sighs, looking at the drink Jensen just poured him like some foreign entity. “I cried it all out.”

“Yeah, same here” Jensen says. “That was rough” He pours a glass for himself before going to sit next to Misha on the couch. The trailer feels worlds away from the heart-wrenching scene they just recorded, and he’s glad for it. “I just hope they use most of that last take.”

“God, I know. It sucked, but it was _so good_ ” Misha groans, finally sipping on some of his whiskey before hissing through his teeth.

Jensen chuckles as he watches him. “It was. Glad I had Lou record it on my phone for me.”

With a small nod, Misha lays his head on Jensen’s shoulder, looking as exhausted as Jensen feels. “Yeah, me too. It’ll be nice to watch it back in like … twenty years when I’m actually emotionally stable.”

“Right?” Jensen huffs. “I’m just glad I’m getting it out now.”

That makes Misha lift his head again. “What do you mean?”

Jensen shrugs. “Just that … I don’t think the finale is going to hit me like _this_ did; and even its super emotional too, I think I cried as much as I can cry at this point.”

Sad, blue eyes crash over him like a wave, and it makes Jensen hold his breath under the scrutiny. “I know you’re still not thrilled with the ending, Jensen… but like you said to me earlier, don’t miss out on the good moments because you’re too busy dreading the bad.”

Jensen smiles softly, finally turning to welcome the gaze. “Yeah … you’re right. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

Misha smiles back at him, nodding before resting his head on Jensen’s shoulder once more. “It will be, babe. I know it will be.”

***

Alex and Rich were already on the plane by the time Misha and Jensen joined them, but Richard was snoring and Alex was reading something on his phone, so neither noticed when they boarded.

“Hey, kid” Jensen says, clapping a hand onto Alex’s shoulder and making jump so hard, he almost dropped his phone.

“Oh, jeez—hey! _Hi_ …” Alex laughs, finally pulling the AirPods out of his ears so he can hear them. “How did that final scene go?”

Misha moves around Jensen to sit in one of the seats across from the other two—Jared’s private plane is small, so the seats face one another; and Jensen normally enjoys the intimacy, but he really just wanted to fall asleep on this trip, and that’s hard to do when it feels like someone is looking right at you … _unless you’re Richard anyway_. Jensen huffs a laugh as he looks at their unconscious director, finally turning back to Alex to answer his question. “It was … _rough_ , but good. I think it’ll be a really impactful scene.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Richard let’s out a long snore, making the rest of them laugh—and it felt good to smile after the evening they’ve had.

“ _Yeah_ —he took some sort of sleeping pill or Nyquil or something. He was out as soon as he hit the chair” Alex says, shaking his head and looking back at his phone.

Jensen finishes putting his and Misha’s bags in the back before finally taking his seat with the rest of the guys. “Have you been here a long time?” he asks Alex once he buckles his seatbelt and pulls out his own phone to scroll through any messages.

“About an hour. Rich got here maybe twenty minutes ago, so then we were just waiting for you two.”

Jensen bites his lip. “Yeah, sorry about that. We lost track of time.”

Misha laughs. “Plus, we got a pretty drunk and thought we should try to sober up before flying.”

“ _Ah_ , good call” Alex says, but he’s tapping on his phone as he says it—which most likely means, he’s talking to his girlfriend and probably didn’t hear a word anyone said.

Misha raises a brow before rolling his eyes to Jensen. “ _Kids_.”

Jensen chuckles, but then he starts tapping on _his_ _phone_ too—texting Danneel to let her know they’re about to take off.

“Oh—yeah, _I_ should do that” Misha says, obviously noting what Jensen’s doing, because he’s taking out _his phone_ a moment later and typing a message to Vicki.

“ _Kids_ ” Alex says mockingly.

Jensen and Misha both laugh as the plane’s engines begin to roar.

They’re in the air after another ten minutes, and they all settle in for the three-hour flight to Vegas. Jensen has pulled his baseball cap over his face and is already dozing off when Misha whispers his name.

“ _Huh?_ ” Jensen mumbles, slowly crawling back into consciousness with a frown.

“I wanted to know if you could send me that video? I want to show it to Vicki.”

He pulls his hat off and rubs his eyes, blinking and squinting in the dim light coating the cabin. “Oh, yeah … sure” Jensen yawns, picking up his phone from where he dropped is beside him in the seat. He opens up his email and attaches the video, knowing it’ll take a while to actually _send_ , but at least he can go back to sleep as it does.

“Thanks, babe” Misha whispers, but Jensen is already slipping into dreams— _all too vivid_ , where Misha is the one getting taken away, disappearing before his eyes, saying goodbye, saying “I love you” … and there’s nothing Jensen can do about it but sit on the ground and watch it all through his tears. There’s nothing he can say, nothing he can do, no way to convince him _not_ to go.

The explosion rips him from his dream like hurricane ripping a house from its studs, and his heart is racing before he’s even fully awake. He opens his eyes to a bright, white flash, then flames and smoke, billowing just outside the window. A screaming-hiss fills his ears and a screaming-dread fills the back of his throat.

Misha is stark white and still beside him, white knuckles and nails—digging into the armrest as the plane begins to shake out of control.

Richard wakes up with a scream and Alex grabs onto him, shouting “What’s happening? What’s happening?” over and over.

The pilot crackles in over the intercom, and it makes the three men panic even more. “We’ve lost an engine. Stay in your seats and buckle your seatbelts! We are turning around for an emergency landing.”

Jensen’s chest begins to heave—he’s not sure if he needs to throw up or pass out, but all he can think about right now are his kids. JJ’s face flashes in front of him, and then Arrow’s and Zepp’s. He can hear their voices calling out “Daddy”. He can feel their little hands in his own, and he’s suddenly wondering if he’ll ever get to see them grow a day older. He gasps, finally remembering to breathe, and then he clamors for his phone, pulling up the last text he sent to Danneel before hitting the _call_ button next to her name; but his phone doesn’t connect, it just buffers and flashes as the data taps out at zero.

Jensen’s eyes jerk up to the bars at the top of the screen.

_No signal._

“Fuck” he whispers.

“What now?” Misha yelps. Somehow hearing him beyond the constant shriek of air over twisted metal.

“No signal” Jensen croaks aloud, his mouth dry and his tongue thick against his teeth.

The plane shifts sharply to the right and they all lean away from it and into each other, closing their eyes as they mutter silent prayers.

“ _Jensen_ ” Misha says, voice panicked and shaking.

Jensen peeks back at him, feeling hot tears stinging his eyes for the countless time today. “ _Misha_ ” he whispers softly, taking Misha’s hand in his own.

Misha squeezes it tight and then leans forward, pressing their foreheads together one last time. “I love you, I love you so much.”

“I love you too” Jensen says, hating that _even now_ —even with the world trembling and burning around them, he still hesitates to reach out and pull Misha in for a kiss, because they’re not alone _… people can see._

“Guys—guys!” Richard, says, now calling out to them too. “Hold hands. C’mon—hold hands!” He grabs Alex’s hand beside him and then reaches over to take Misha’s.

Jensen nods and drops his phone so he can take Alex’s other hand; and finally, they’re all joined—holding onto one another for hope, or for the last moments they’re alive.

“We’re descending—prepare for more turbulence” the pilot announces, and almost immediately—the entire plane jerks in the air and then drops a few more feet.

“Oh god!” Richard yelps, looking up as if to heaven, but his eyes are closed tight.

“It’ll be okay” Jensen says, once again—trying to will his thoughts into existence. “We’ll be okay.”

“Okay—okay, okay, okay” Alex repeats, sounding manic and anything _but_.

Just then, Jensen’s phone dings with a text message, and he rips his hands free once more to pick it up and look at it; but he doesn’t even check to see who the text is from because all that matters is— _now he has a signal_. A weak one, but it should be enough to get a message through. “We got signal, guys!” he yelps, both thrilled and heartbroken, because he would give anything _not_ to say what he knows he has to right now.

He takes a deep breath.

The plane jerks again.

Jensen begins typing.

“Baby, I don’t know what’s going to happen but an engine went out on the plane. We’re trying to make an emergency landing, but just in case things go bad, know that I love you. I love you and the kids with all my heart. I am praying I make it back to you. I love you so much, Danneel.”

His throat aches as he hits “send”, and then he looks to Misha, who’s typing out a text as well—and _he’s_ crying, just like the rest of them are crying, sending their loved ones what could be their final goodbyes. “Mish” he whispers again, pulling that watery blue gaze back to him once the man looks up from his phone; and for a second—Jensen almost tells him that he _can’t_ _bear_ to watch him die. That he’d sooner jump out of this plane than watch Misha disappear into a flash of black and smoke; but saying that out loud feels like he’s welcoming the possibility, so he leaves it hanging in the ether with their fates before leaning forward to kiss him; for once—not caring about who’s watching or what they’ll think, only hoping that this one kiss is enough to get across everything he wishes he had more lifetimes to say.

“Prepare for landing” the pilot cuts in—his voice crackling through the vibrating speaker.

With terrified hope in their eyes, they all hold hands again as Misha whispers “please, please, please” under his breath.

The wheels creak when they deploy, and the wings rattle as the air snags against the gnarled engine that’s weighing them down. The smoke is still thick against the windows, but Jensen can start to see the hazy glow of city lights as the plane gets closer and closer to the earth. Alex squeezes his hand tightly as they all brace for impact— and then the plane thuds onto the runway, bouncing back into the air a moment before thudding again against the tarmac again; but everything _still_ feels like it’s moving too fast, even though it’s pretty certain that they’re fully on the ground now.

“Braking—hang on, everyone” the pilot says, and the coolness of his voice is shortly followed by the calming air around the plane as it decreases its speed. The shrieking wind dims into a low whistle, before finally silencing altogether once the plane rolls to a stop.

The smoke clears, revealing the flashing lights of fire engines and ambulances—all ready and waiting to for them, and for whatever state they arrived in. Their collective exhale at the sight leaves them all drained, too weak from the fear to even move; but once the reality sinks in that they’re all _really_ okay, all _alive, all safe,_ they each began clamoring to undo their seatbelts.

“Get me off this fucking thing!” Richard cries, undoing his belt first and immediately shooting up to race for the door.

The pilot meets him there, trying to slow him down and explain that they need to put the stairs down first, but Richard doesn’t wait—and as soon as that door is open, he’s hopping off the plane and onto the tarmac with a _thump._

Jensen can hear Richard’s voice mix in with several more—paramedics and firefighter, all asking him if he’s okay and if anyone else on the plane is injured.

“We’re all fine, right?” the pilot asks, looking towards the other three men as he works on the release for the stairs.

“Yeah” Alex breathes, and Misha nods shortly after—but he seems like he’s just barely hanging on.

So, Jensen takes a deep breath and gets up from his seat. “Yeah, we’re all okay.” He walks over to look out the door, locking eyes with one of the paramedics that’s waiting for them on the ground. “No one is hurt, just raddled. We all just want to get off this plane and be back on the solid ground.”

“Yeah, yeah—let’s get you down” the man says, helping the pilot with the stairs and locking them into place.

Jensen turns around and waves the guys towards him, and soon—both Alex and Misha have grabbed everyone’s things and are bustling with Jensen down the stairs to finally free of that death-trap.

“I’m never fucking flying again” Jensen spits the second his feet touch earth.

“Same” Alex says, quickly setting down the stuff in his arms so he can call his girlfriend and let her know he’s okay.

That seems to remind the rest of them to do the same, and soon—everyone is on their phones, talking to their wives, their kids, choking back more tears as they each recount the experience.

Once the paramedics clear them, they’re finally allowed to head back into the airport, and the three men clamor inside as quickly as possible, dragging their bags and sanity carelessly behind them.

“Did you step onto the plane with the wrong foot this time, Jensen?” Misha asks as they walk down the main pathway of the airport towards the shops, clearly trying to lighten everyone’s mood now they they’re a hundred percent _safe_ on the ground.

“No—did you not wear orange underwear today?” Jensen replies, but Misha yanks up his shirt in order to pull out a pinch of the orange fabric that’s hiding beneath his jeans. Jensen chuckles. “Well, it wasn’t us. What about you guys? Did either of you jinx the flight?”

But Richard isn’t paying them any mind, soon talking a mile a minute—spilling out every thought that enters his mind as if his audio-button is stuck on _double-speed_ ; but Alex stays quiet in contrast—probably still in shock that his short life was nearly punctuated so permanently.

At least, _that’s what Jensen is hoping is bothering the kid_ —because he knows there’s a very good chance that both Alex and Richard saw him and Misha kiss on the plane; but he’s just not sure how either of them will react to it once they calm down. Jensen’s pretty sure Richard won’t care in the least. In fact, he imagines the guy might already know about them and has for a while; but Alex is more of a wildcard. He knows that the kid isn’t homophobic or anything, but all this _could_ make him act different around him and Misha, or act different on set—and Jensen would really hate for that to happen. 

“I need a drink” Richard says finally, taking a much-needed pause to look back at the rest of them.

“Me too” Alex mutters, and he’s quickly on the other man’s heels as they head towards the main part of the airport.

Jensen is about to follow when he feels a hand tug him back—and then, he’s being shoved down the short hallway that leads to the bathroom. It’s three in the morning and no one’s around, and Misha’s passions seems to be fueled by that fact.

He tosses their bags to the side in order to free up his hands for Jensen’s body, and then Misha crowds him into the corner and kisses him hard, knocking off Jensen’s hat so he can run his hand through his hair; but these aren’t the lust-filled kisses they’ve come to know, nor are they slow and sweet and soft – they’re _manic_. They’re desperate, and they’re filled to the brim with all the fear that swamped them while they were on that plane, and Jensen falls head-first into his frenzy, forgetting about absolutely everything else.

“I thought I’d lose you” Misha gasps, pressing himself hard into Jensen’s chest—as if he’s trying to climb inside.

“Me too” Jensen says, eyes closed as he opens himself up to be taken.

Misha breathes him in before scooping him into his arms, lifting Jensen by the back of the legs to press him against the wall; and Jensen wraps himself around the man like a sweater, clinging to every muscle, every inch of skin that he’s kissed and cherished at some point over the last five years. Every cell in their bodies holds a memory of one another, and those cells are fusing into one as they live in the entirety of this moment, only breathing for each other.

Jensen pulls at Misha’s shirt as the man hoists him higher, cupping his face with his other hand and taking a brief moment to look into those blue eyes before kissing him again.

_Those blue, blue eyes._

_Those lips._

_That hair and skin._

_This_ is the man that he’ll love until the day he dies, and as his heart melts for him all over again, Jensen thanks God that he didn’t die _today_. He gets to hold Misha one more time—he gets to love him longer. Jensen gets to give himself over to him over and over again, and he needs Misha to own him completely. This man unlocks something in him every time they’re together. Jensen never saw himself as _closed off_ , or secretive, or hard to know—not until Misha walked into his life and cracked him open like an some precious ore. He made Jensen reveal sides of himself that no one had ever seen before—he caused Jensen to laugh in ways he had never laughed, love in ways he had never loved. Because of Misha, Jensen can march into life head-first instead of hanging back to see how things unfold. Misha has made him unafraid. Misha has made him who he truly wants to be; and as this man literally holds him above the earth, Jensen realizes how close they came to crashing into it—to losing _this_.

He kisses him harder; he loves him more. He holds this man with all of himself, and he swears with teeth and tongue, and with river-tears on his cheeks, to _never_ let him go.

No matter who’s watching, no matter how hot the world burns, Misha can find his place in Jensen’s arms whenever he needs it.

***

“Hey, kid. How ya doing?” Jensen asks, sitting down next to Alex instead of heading back two more rows to his seat beside Misha.

None of them were thrilled to be flying again, but they needed to get to Vegas for this convention, and it’s not exactly like they could _drive_ from Vancouver in time.

Alex shrugs, but his cheeks are pale and he’s bouncing his knee anxiously. “I’m okay. Just want to be on the ground again.”

Jensen nods, looking around the plane at the half dozen other people aboard the flight. A five a.m. Sunday morning transfer to Las Vegas from Vancouver is _not_ a very popular commute. “I know. Me too.” He stays quiet for a while after that, and eventually—his knee starts bouncing as well.

Alex looks him over, eventually clearing his throat to get Jensen’s attention. “Are _you_ okay?” he asks, his tone— _sincere_.

Jensen shrugs, biting the inside of his cheek, but finally—he spits out the monstrous thought that have been eating him alive for the last few hours. “Look—I don’t know what you saw or didn’t see, but just in case, I wanted to say that that flight was really intense and, I’ve known Misha a really long time, and I didn’t know what was gonna happen, but it didn’t really mean—”

“ _Woah_ , Jensen. Chill” Alex says with a laugh. “You don’t need to explain anything to me.”

Jensen sucks in a breath and holds it, hoping that the kid will elaborate on _what_ exactly he doesn’t need to explain.

“Seriously. We’re cool. What’s between you and Misha is your deal.”

But that only makes Jensen panic more. He leans in closer, talking in a strained whisper. “Look, our wives know, okay? It’s not we’re cheating on them or anything. They’re actually the reason we even—”

“ _Jensen_ …” the young man sighs, turning in his seat to face him dead on, and sometimes Alex reminds him so much of Misha that he thinks the kid might _really be_ the guy’s son. “I have eyes. I have seen how you two are together, and I have seen how you two are with your wives. There’s obviously love there, and … I’m _not_ surprised, and I’m _not_ weirded out, and you don’t owe me any excuses or explanations. This is your guys’ business, and I would never say or do anything to fuck with that, alright?”

Jensen finally exhales—feeling almost as relieved as he did when he finally got off that plane. “Yeah?”

Alex laughs again. “ _Yeah_. You two are my friends. And … like I said before, _I have eyes._ ”

Jensen rubs the back of his neck as he chuckles too. “Yeah, _okay_ —”

“I mean, you guys _really_ don’t hide it well.”

“ _Uh_ —”

“Like … _not at all_. It’s super obvious. Like … _very._ ”

“Okay, alright— _enough_ ” Jensen grunts, rolling his eyes but he leans in and throws his arm around the kid, grateful that once again, this show has given him _family._

Alex hugs him back, smiling as he lets go; and after another beat, he turns his head to look at Misha sitting in the last row. “You better get back there. I think the guy across the aisle is making eyes at your man.”

Jensen whips around so fast, he nearly snaps his own neck—only, _there is no guy across the aisle._

Alex is wheezing with laughter and Jensen is turning bright red, and Misha is straining to see what they’re up to as Richard snores one row over, passed out after taking an unhealthy amount of sleeping pills. And the plane flies on across the border—smooth as can be, allowing the actors to relax a little as the whole hellish ordeal finally comes to an end.

***

The world has gone into hiding. There’s a villain lingering outside everyone’s door, and its name is _Covid_. Jensen didn’t like having to pause production; but there _were_ some perks to this lockdown; and as JJ paints his nails a beautiful shade of blue, and as Arrow and Zepp play fetch with the dog, and as Danneel reads a book, curled up and cute on the couch, Jensen thinks that this enforced break is just what he needs after the last couple months.

The only real downside (other than the obvious state of the world) is that Misha couldn’t be here with him.

_But thank God for modern technology._

The video call rings a few times before that familiar gummy grin appears on screen. Jensen is already grinning back as the two of them stare at one another.

“Hey, babe” Misha says, leaning against his couch—showing the firm expanse of his chest, tightly wrapped in a black t-shirt.

Jensen licks his lips. “Hey _yourself_ … why’d you have to chat with me in your sexy-shirt? Now that’s all I’m gonna be thinking ‘bout.”

Misha chuckles low from his ribs, arching a distrustful brow at him through the computer. “Oh, like you weren’t going to be thinking about that anyway?”

Jensen shrugs, smiling roguishly.

“Plus … you think _every_ shirt that’s a little tight on me is a ‘sexy-shirt’.” He says the words with air quotes, “and most of _those_ — _you_ gave to me.”

Jensen shrugs again with a laugh, soon noticing that Misha is also wearing the necklace and bracelet that he gave him, plus the ring—even though _that_ began as just an innocent gift between friends. Now however, Misha wears it with his wedding band—an unspoken reminder that he’s giving himself over to Jensen, like a vow—a promise; and every time Jensen sees it on Misha’s hand, the wind gets knocked out of him by shock of his own luck.

“What are you— _oh_ , hi, Misha!” Danneel chirps, having just wandered in to Jensen’s office. She leans over his shoulder to wave at the other man on the screen.

“Hey, Dani. You’re looking gorgeous today.”

Danneel beams and shimmies her shoulders, uplifted by the little compliment. “You’re lookin’ pretty sexy yourself. I like that shirt!”

Jensen throws his hands up and smirks at the screen. “What’d I tell ya?”

Misha just rolls his eyes and laughs at the two of them. “So …” he says after another moment, “where are the kids?”

“With their grandma” Danneel says. “I _tried_ to talk her out of taking them since we’re in a freakin’ pandemic, but … you know how these Texans are. _Stubborn as hell_.”

Misha nods emphatically.

“Hey! That’s my mom … and _me_ you’re talking about” Jensen snips, but Danneel doesn’t pay him any mind. He purses his lips at her before turning back to Misha. “What about yours?”

“Vicki took them to get flu shots, but I stayed back to keep an eye on Hazel. Maison left out some chocolate that she got from—well, I don’t even know _where_ she got it from, but anyway ... Hazel found it and has been throwing up all night.”

“Oh no! Poor puppy!” Danneel says, but Misha waves off her concern.

“ _Nah_ , she’s okay. She’s been drinking water and is sleeping right now, but I wanted to keep an eye out just in case.”

Absently—Jensen blinks, knowing he should be saying something about the dog, or commenting on Misha’s story in general, but he just can’t stop staring at the guy’s lips, and the only words that he has really processed in the last thirty seconds—told him that _Misha was alone in the house_ … just like _they were alone in the house._ “Hey, Mish …?”

Misha quirks his head to the side and scrunches up his brow. “Yes?”

“Wanna have some fun?”

The man’s face is twisted in confusion a moment before his eyes widen with clarity, and then darken with need.

Jensen turns and looks at his wife, shrugging while scanning her up and down, biting his tongue—seeing if she’s game.

She takes her time, glancing between the two of them—her horny husband and his equally horny boyfriend, before nodding slow and lowering herself onto Jensen’s lap.

Jensen wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her, getting rock-hard in an instant just knowing that Misha is watching them.

“Yes— _I like this_. You two will put on a show for me” Misha rumbles, sounding gritty and breathless already.

“Tell me what to do …” Danneel moans into Jensen’s mouth, “ _Misha_ , tell me what you want me to do to him.”

A shiver runs through Jensen’s entire body. “Oh _fuck yes_ ” he grunts, yanking Danneel closer as she repositions to straddle him.

She grinds his lap and pulls back to suck on his neck, finding a glorious rhythm along the hard line of his cock.

The rest of the room fades to black as the motion of Danneel’s body and the burn of Misha’s eyes on him become all he knows. Jensen looks over to the screen and sees his friend leaning closer, an intense look on his face as he takes in the scene. “You like that, Mish?” he asks, really hoping that the guy will do as his wife asked and command them both.

“ _What I’d like_ —is for you two to move to that couch over there so you can _really_ give me a show.” The man’s cadence is impossibly slow, and there’s a growl to his words that makes him sound dangerous—leaving both him and Danneel scrambling for the couch to follow his instruction. “ _Um_ —take me with you though … _you guys!_ ” Misha yelps, his tone pitching up an octave the second he can no longer see.

“Shit—sorry” Jensen chuckles, shuffling back to grab the laptop and set it up on the table, giving the man a front row seat.

“Good … _good boy_ ” Misha dips low again, and Jensen practically whimpers with the praise. “Now—undress your wife.”

He nods eagerly, turning to Danneel to yank off her shirt.

With a starved look, she eyes him—standing still as he undoes her bra—and then, the button on her jeans before finally lowering them to expose the lace panties beneath. She turns so Misha can see them too—purple and pink, masterfully stroking the curve of her ass like a piece of art and disappearing into the warm space between her thighs.

Jensen is panting, wanting so badly to push inside her and fill her up, but he waits for his directions—knowing that if he goes too fast, Misha will make him pay for it in the end.

“Wait” Misha says suddenly, just as Jensen is starting to pull the lace panties from Danneel’s hip. “Jensen … get on your knees.”

He drops immediately, holding his wife’s gaze—submitting to her and showing his desired place amongst the three of them.

“Now, take them off _slow_ ” Misha thunders—rolling and deep, his voice, a far-off storm and they’re just waiting for landfall.

“Yes, sir” Jensen says, making Misha moan with approval. He drops his gaze just as Danneel runs a hand through his hair. He slides the soft lace over her smooth skin, until she can step out of the last bit of clothes that were keeping her decent; and she grins as her bare skin kisses the warm air in the room.

“Lie down on the couch, Jensen” Misha instructs.

“Clothes still on?” Jensen asks—his cock aching against the zipper of his jeans, and he really wants to take them off and let it out.

“Did I _tell you_ to take them off yet?” The man’s tone is razor sharp, edged with the need to be heard.

“No, sir.”

“ _Exactly_ ” Misha hisses. “Danneel, straddle that pretty face please so he can’t ask any more stupid questions.”

Jensen bites back a grin as he clamors up to lay on the couch. He takes one last peek at the screen before his view is so wonderfully blocked, only to see Misha, leaning back with a hand in the front of his sweatpants, bobbing it up and down as he licks his lips. The muscles in his arms are tight and bulging, and Jensen really wishes that hand was busy holding him down right now—because being commanded, being restrained, being taken over by the two people he loves most in this world, is by far the sexiest thing he could ever imagine.

With a soft whine, Danneel lowers herself onto Jensen’s mouth—hovering just a centimeter off so he’s free to move, but Jensen doesn’t dare until he gets permission.

“ _Taste her_.”

Misha’s words run through his muscles like a shockwave, and Jensen breathes in deep, inhaling his wife and the familiar scent of her body until every thought in his mind is replaced by the need to have her. With his tongue outstretched, he laps her up greedily, and she moans above him—twitching and jumping whenever his tongue swipes her clit.

“Hold her thighs, Jensen.”

Jensen does as he’s told, grabbing onto Danneel’s thighs and holding her down—making sure she can’t squirm away as he licks faster, trying to keep a steady pace as his wife writhes wildly above him. Her breasts bounce as she arches and runs her hands through her hair, brushing it back from her gorgeous face, looking absolutely stunning as he stares up at her.

“Beautiful” Misha praises, sounding strained now and Jensen can just picture him getting close as he watches them and strokes himself.

Danneel moans louder and shivers against his lips, her body—sweet and _ready_.

“ _Make her cum_.”

Palming her soft skin with one hand, he removes the other to slip two fingers as far as he can inside her, and Danneel lunges forward—grabbing onto the armrest as she screams. Jensen fingers her open and holds onto her tighter—muscles flexed as he keeps her on top of him; all the while _knowing_ that Misha will be turned on by the sight of him so effortlessly reigning in his wife as she cums and convulses.

“Fuck— _yes_ , g-get on his cock _now_ , Danneel” Misha growls, and as the woman shakily crawls down his body, Jensen can finally turn and look at the screen once more. The man on the other side of it is flushed, pants pulled down around his knees now—fist pumping fast around his shaft.

It’s a beautiful image; and _that_ , plus his beautiful wife undoing his belt to pull out his dick so she can slide onto it, already hot and wet and overly sensitive—moaning with every inch he fills her up … Jensen thinks he might have just entered the kingdom of heaven, because _nothing_ could ever be more gorgeous than this. “Yes, baby – fuck, okay … go slow” he says, not wanting to cum too quickly as Danneel starts to grind him.

A growl explodes from the speakers to their right, and Jensen diverts his gaze—seeing Misha, shaking his head slow at the camera. The man tuts his tongue, chest heaving while looking enraged by this disruption. “ _You should know better,_ _Jensen... I_ give the orders.”

Jensen stammers on an apology but Misha is too quick.

“Get off of him, Danneel.”

Danneel smiles wickedly and slips off of Jensen’s cock in an instant—causing a cold gust of air to rush across his skin like an icy bath.

“No—wait! I’m sorry!” Jensen cries, feeling half-crazed with the need to have Danneel’s body around him again.

“ _Tsk, tsk, tsk_ … you’re just being a real bad boy now, aren’t you?”

Danneel chuckles, obviously enjoying the sight of her husband’s suffering.

“Mish—please! I’m sorry.”

“Awfully informal too” Misha growls. “Is that he should address me, Danneel?”

That evil glint in his wife’s eye intensifies as she shakes her head. “No, _sir_.”

Jensen’s lust filled mind finally clears a moment, and he props himself up onto his elbows—frantic for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, sir! _Please_... let her get back on, sir!” He sounds pathetic and helpless, and _fuck—_ if it isn’t turning him on all the more.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t sound very remorseful to me, sir” Danneel says—and she’s truly loving this game. _Her and Misha share a taste for evil._

“He doesn’t, does he?”

Jensen gawks at the screen with desperate eyes. Misha stopped stroking himself to stare down his nose at the camera, an eyebrow arched—waiting for Jensen to make a more convincing case for himself. So, with his dick impossibly hard, Jensen pulls his legs back off the couch and kneels down on the ground once more, getting as close to the screen as he can so the man can see his sincerity. “ _Please_ , _sir_ … I won’t give orders again. _I promise._ I’ll be good!”

That arched brow raises higher a moment, and then—Misha finally gives him one, curt nod. “Kiss him, Danneel.”

Danneel is down at his level in an instant, and she’s attacking Jensen’s mouth with fervor, already seeming primed and ready to go again.

Jensen falls into the space between her lips, blinded by taste of her as she tastes herself on his tongue. “Please” he begs again, breathless and worn down.

And Misha’s voice hits him like a merciful bullet to the brain. “You may fuck her now.”

He’s leaping back on to the couch before Misha’s words have even faded from the air, pulling Danneel along with him and sliding her down onto cock like he’s slipping on a priceless piece of jewelry. She squeezes around him as she moves up and down— feeling nothing less than _amazing_ ; but she’s going to slow, and Jensen needs to cum _now._ He knows better now though; so, he looks back to the screen, silent—yet, _eyes screaming_ out for permission.

“What is it Jensen? Do you want to cum?” Misha asks, already rubbing his tip again as he watches Danneel work herself up against Jensen’s dick—grinding and bouncing, moaning loudly in her own world of pleasure.

“Y-yes, sir” Jensen gasps, feeling so close but still, _too far_ to remain sane _._

Misha’s own strokes speed up, and he licks his lips until their pink—his hot mouth, falling open as his breaths become shallow and ragged. He lowers his head and stares through the screen—piercing blue, piercing Jensen’s skin and making his blood rush even quicker into his cock … and Misha _growls_ , furious and feral, “Go ahead then— _cum in her_.”

Jensen whips back around and grabs onto Danneel’s hips, pulling up his legs so he can dig his heels into the couch for leverage—and then he thrusts, hard and fast, beating his cock into her and making her scream until she cums again. She scratches her fingernails down his forearms, wild as he hits her pleasure points from all sides.

A noise erupts from the computer at his side, and he looks over just in time to see Misha—spilling over his own hand, head thrown back, long, thick neck—stretched out and strained with sweet tension and desperate relief.

And Jensen is done for, wrung out by the sight of his two loves loving him, loving the _sight_ of him and the sight of each other, all together in pleasure and heart. He cums hard, barking out a strangled slew of curses before finally collapsing, motionless against the couch—a deflated mess of a man.

“Wow … just, _wow_ ” Danneel gasps, reaching down to stroke her husband’s cheek.

“Seconded” Misha says—in a voice that’s _hoarser and raspier_ than usual.

“ _Algbbrff_ ” Jensen attempts, but _he’s_ not even sure what he was trying to say.

“And the motion carries!” Misha laughs, quickly joined by Danneel, and finally—by Jensen too, thinking all the while that he may have actually orgasmed all his bones out of his body, but simply _being_ with these two and hearing them laugh makes his complete-paralysis totally worth it.

***

His music tastes are eclectic— _thanks to his wife_. He used to be a classic rock guy, maybe a little country, along with some oldies thrown into the mix for flavor; but ever since he and Danneel started dating, Jensen has found himself tapping his toes and singing along to just about _everything_. Pop, rap, fucking _Disney songs_ now that he has kids... doesn’t matter. If it has a decent beat and thoughtful lyrics—he’s in. And, it’s not that he _minds_ it really, but he still tends to get embarrassed when someone catches him singing something that doesn’t fall between Led Zeppelin and George Straight. So, when he wasn’t paying attention and drumming a beat on his steering wheel—careless fingers _accidently_ answering Misha’s call on his car’s Bluetooth, Jensen would be mortified to find that the man got yet _another_ front row seat to one of his shows; only— _this show_ was far more PG than what he and Danneel starred in last week in the office.

> _“I came in from the outside  
>  Burnt out from the joy ride  
>  She likes to roll here in my ashes anyway…”_

Jensen belts out the words, unburdened and unaware that Misha can hear him; so, he continues to hum between the versus and tap his thumbs across the dash, dancing in his seat to a song that he’s had stuck in his head the last few days. He sings on—acapella and aimless in his version, but just as upbeat as Hozier originally played it.

> _“Played from the bedside  
>  Is ‘Stella By Starlight’  
>  ‘That Was My Heart’  
>  The drums that start off ‘Night And Day’.”_

He laughs. He’s feeling _good._ He’s feeling _really_ good; even though he knows that there’s still plenty for him to worry about, right here, _right now_ —on his way home from his brewery, off to see his beautiful wife and kids, he’s just in a _damn good mood …_ and _nothing_ makes him feel like singing more.

> _“The same kind of music haunts her bedroom.  
>  I'm almost me again, she's almost you._
> 
> _I wouldn't know where to start  
>  ‘Sweet Music’ playing ‘In The Dark’  
>  Be still ‘My Foolish Heart,’  
>  Don't ruin this on me._
> 
> _I wouldn't know where to start  
>  ‘Sweet Music’ playing ‘In The Dark’  
>  Be still ‘My Foolish Heart,’  
>  Don't ruin this on me.”_

“ _Wooh!_ Encore!” Misha cheers—and his sudden input sends Jensen swerving and screeching to a stop, terrified that _somehow_ , someone crawled into his backseat mid-drive.

“The fuck?” Jensen yelps, and the car behind him blares its horn to try and get him going again. “Mish?” he finally says, out of breath and gasping.

“Yup. Been here a while. I take it you weren’t aware that you answered the phone?” Misha asks, his voice loud as it echoes through the car’s speakers.

Jensen blows out some air before pressing the gas pedal to start driving again. Thankfully, he’s not on a busy street and the car behind him was far enough away when he stopped that there was no danger of them colliding, but he still hates looking like an idiot-driver. “No! _Fuck—you scared the piss outta me!_ ” And Misha laughs, unaware of just how dangerous that could have been; and Jensen almost tells him as much, until it hits him that Misha heard his little concert. He starts to blush, eventually matching the red light he’s pulling up to. “So … _uh_ … what’s up?”

“Nope. I don’t want to talk about that yet.”

“Wha—”

“I want you sing some more. Oh! Sing our song!” Misha requests, and it has Jensen laughing now.

“Ah c’mon, man…”

“ _Do it!_ ” Misha cheers some more.

Jensen rolls his eyes to himself in the rearview, but he can only see his own joy, his own fondness and his own love … so, he inhales deep, and he _sings_.

> _“But baby now  
>  Take me into your loving arms  
>  Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars  
>  Place your head on my beating heart  
>  I'm thinking out loud  
>  That maybe we found love right where we are.”_

He smiles as he hums off the last line, thinking back to when he first sang that song to Misha—watching him across the green room, their relationship still shiny and new. It seems like so long ago, yet, _still only seconds_ , because he feels the same now as he did then. He’s in love with his best friend, and his best friend loves him back—and nothing else seems to matter if he can just keep himself nestled within that memory.

“Okay, now sing Blackbird!”

“No more requests” Jensen laughs. “Shows over. Curtain’s closed.”

“Boo” Misha jeers, and Jensen can all but see him pouting.

“Yeah, yeah— _can it. Now,_ what’s up?”

“ _My dick_ if you keep singing.”

“ _Mish_ …”

Misha sighs, suddenly sounding a lot less chipper than he did a moment ago. “Well, just wondering if you saw that email from Dabb yet.”

“What email?” Jensen asks, light turning green, and his freshly green stomach starts to twist in on itself. He actually hasn’t heard much from work at all in the last month, and it’s been really, really nice not thinking about it.

Misha sighs again. “He’s giving us a head’s up … _apparently_ , the network has confirmed its making more changes to the finale script, as well as to scenes we’ve already filmed.”

 _That_ makes Jensen’s stomach drop completely—heavy enough to crash through the floor of his car to the street below. “Wait—seriously? What’s wrong with what we’ve already filmed? And why _more_ changes? I thought they finally had this shit settled!”

“I don’t know. Andrew didn’t go into much detail, he just said to be ready for _anything_ when we get back.”

“ _So … when_ _will_ we get back?” Jensen asks, because he has a feeling it might not be for a while, but maybe Misha had heard something new.

“No clue. The numbers on this virus keep getting bigger. I know that West and Maison’s school keeps moving back their return date, and now they’re saying they might not go back for the rest of the year.”

“JJ’s school is saying the same thing” Jensen offers with a groan. “Danneel and I are doing what we can—but _fuck_ , it’s rough. Teachers _do not_ get enough credit.”

Misha laughs dryly. “Tell me about it. I tried to help West with his multiplication tables yesterday, and I have discovered … I am _not_ as patient of a man as I once thought.”

“You didn’t yell at the poor kid, did you?” Jensen asks—recalling a time when _his_ dad tried to help him with math homework, and it ended with Jensen in tears and his dad having to go for a drive to cool off.

“No, _of course not;_ I just got so tired of waiting for him to figure it out, I started giving him all the answers. Vicki finally had to take over before I ended up taking his pencil from him and just finishing it myself.”

Jensen laughs as the car quiets again—the two of them obviously lost in their own thoughts now. “So…” he says after another minute of silence, “what changes do you think they’re going to make?”

Misha sighs once more into the phone, sounding staticky and tired. “Well considering he only sent that email to you and me, I’m guessing they’re wanting to do some major edits to the last scene we did.”

Jensen swallows thickly. “He didn’t send it to Jared?”

“Nope, just us.”

_That doesn’t bode well._

Jensen groans. “Shit … I really hope they not thinking about cutting that scene.”

“Me too; but it’s the only thing we’ve filmed already that’s _risky_. I mean, there’s a reason the network was watching like a hawk when we shot it.”

“Yeah—I know; but, do you really think they’d be dumb enough to cut such a major moment?”

“They’ve already tried to cut me out once, Jensen. I don’t think they really care about how major or minor the moment is.”

Jensen frowns at his car’s dash—hating how cold the man sounded as he said that. “I don’t know … I don’t think they’ll cut the scene, man. At least … not completely. If they did, they’d have to come up with a whole new ending for Castiel, and that’ll mean re-shoots and more money...”

“I know they probably won’t throw it out, but I’m sure they’ll hack it to pieces before it airs.”

Now Jensen is sighing. “Yeah … probably.”

“I hate this” Misha says, his voice further away and smaller now.

“I know, babe” Jensen whispers, wishing he could crawl through the phone and hug the man—it sounds like Misha really needs it. “At least _we_ know how good it was, and we have that video I recorded. We know what we did and we can be proud of that—no matter what the end result looks like. You did something amazing on that stage that night, Mish. Don’t let the fucking network’s opinions ruin that for you.”

Some shuffling and shifting play through the speakers before Misha’s low vibrato comes out once more. “Look at you—all savvy with the pep-talks.”

Jensen smiles, spinning the steering wheel to turn into his neighborhood, seeing his home settled peacefully at the end of the block. “Yeah, _well_ … I learned from the best.”

“ _Mhm_ … _Michael B. Jordan_. A man of many talents” Misha hums.

Jensen rolls his eyes. “You’re such an idiot.”

***

The easy-going restfulness from the first months of lockdown is long gone—and the music videos with his wife and binged Netflix shows are quickly taken over by protests and awareness fundraisers.

And ever since the world started going _totally_ to shit, Misha has barely spoken to him. He’s kept too busy trying to save everyone—and Jensen can’t even feel sad about it because, _well_ … there are so many bigger things to be sad about right now. However, he can’t help but miss the man, and every new tragedy that crops up only makes him miss Misha more. Jensen sees how hard everything is hitting the guy; and he knows that whatever hopelessness that _he_ might be feeling, Misha is feeling in tenfold, because his boyfriend is empathy-personified, and being able to step back and _not_ worry about humanity has never been a skill that Misha mastered.

_Which is why he plays an angel so well._

But it all makes Jensen eager to get back filming—to regain some sense of normalcy now that everything is spinning wildly out of control; even though he’s not looking forward to whatever the network has waiting for them in Vancouver. Overall, any excuse for Misha to slow down and take a moment for himself is _a good one_ —and a mandatory two-week quarantine at the condo prior to filming will be just perfect. Jensen knows that he can help the man relax. He knows he’ll be able to ease Misha’s racing mind and relieve some of his tension … _they just have to get there first_ ; but that’s still over a month away, and with the few conversations he and his boyfriend have had recently … he’s not quite sure Misha’s sanity will _last_ another month.

When he doesn’t sound exhausted, he sounds manic.

When he doesn’t sound manic, he seems just plain angry.

And when the anger finally fades, the man can slip into a depression that is unnervingly masked with a smile, reminding Jensen of his first scene with Castiel when he was taken over by leviathans. It is cold and crazed, and even worse when seen through a screen and not in person; and Misha can switch through all these moods like he's scrolling through apps on his phone, because the world is simply spinning off course far too fast, and Misha always prided himself on his ability to hold it.

 _Yes_. Two weeks at the condo is exactly what Misha needs … they just need to get there.

_They will get there._

***

“Daddy!”

Zepp is holding out the toy plywood plane in one hand, and the rubber band that’s _supposed_ to be attached to the propeller in the other; and his face is scrunched up and frowning. It’s all enough to break even the coldest heart.

“Oh no, buddy! What happened?” Jensen asks, taking the plane from his son so he can inspect it.

“It cwashed!” Zepp cries—big, gloopy tears now tumbling down his cheeks. Out of nowhere, his twin sister runs up to him and gives him a hug; and then she’s running off again to chase after JJ as the older girl zips around their backyard holding sparklers.

Danneel and Jensen both let out an “ _aww_ ” because that twin-telepathy thing is the _real-deal_ , and those two always know the instant something is wrong with the other.

“It’s alright, little man. C’mere – we’ll fix it.” Jensen pulls his son up onto his lap, and his lawn chair bows a little with the extra weight. The summer sun is bright and hot on their faces, but it’s the perfect lighting for such delicate repair work. “You see … we just wrap the rubber band around this end _here_ …” Jensen pulls the band tight through the notches at the base of the plane, giving it enough tension to tug on the propeller once more to make it spin.

Zeppelin squeals his approval, quickly grabbing the plane back and wriggling off of his Daddy’s lap—eager to get the thing flying again.

Jensen watches him run off—smiling ear to ear. He knows he will always be wrapped around his daughters’ fingers, but there’s something about teaching his son the little things in life that makes him feel like the best dad in the world.

“It’s weird … not having everyone here” Danneel says, stretching out her legs—tanning them in the scorching July-rays as she rolls onto her back. She’s laid out on a blanket in the grass, a forgotten book at her side and a cold beer, now warming in her hand.

“I know; but it’s also kinda nice—doing the Fourth of July with just you, me and the kids.”

“Yeah, I guess. It _is_ a lot more peaceful this way.”

And as if on cue, Arrow screams at JJ, who begins yelling back at Arrow, which causes Zepp to run over to referee the two of them by whacking them with his plane.

“Hey! What’s goin’ on over there?” Jensen hollers in his gruffest _dad-voice_ , and all three of his munchkins quiet down and turn to look at him.

“Arrow wants the sparklers and I told her _no_ ” JJ says, which immediately makes Arrow cry again.

“She’s right sweetie. Sparklers are for _older_ kids. I got bubbles over here for you though” Danneel says without looking up.

“No!” Arrow screeches, and then the three kids go back fighting.

“That’s it! You guys asked for it!” Jensen yells, leaping from his chair to waddle towards his children in giant, stomping steps. He’s hunched over like some lumbering beast, twiddling his fingers before clenching them into fists. “You know who _loves_ unhappy-kiddos?”

Arrow’s angry screeches quickly turn to squeals of joy, and Zeppelin stumbles back in a fit of giggles—all while JJ grins, planting the dying sparklers into the ground so she can be poised for the chase. “Daddy” she laughs, scooting away a little as Jensen lifts his arms.

“No _Daddy_ here! Only TICKLE MONSTER!” He roars, lunging forward and scooping Arrow up—flipping her upside down right away and tickling her stomach mercilessly as her shirt slips towards her armpits, exposing her pale pudgy belly.

She shrieks again—this time, _directly into Jensen’s ear_.

“ _Ah_ —okay, sweetie. The Tickle Monster would appreciate keeping his hearing intact, alright?” But the little girl doesn’t seem to care, and she continues to shriek and scream as he hoists her onto his shoulders in order to take off chasing the others around the yard. He catches up with Zepp pretty easily, pulling him into the crook of his elbow and kissing his neck until the boy is gasping with glee. “I’ve got _two_ Babackles, where’s my third?” He looks around, as if he can’t see JJ standing right in front of him. He stomps on the grass and grunts—sniffing the air in circles like an animal.

“I’m right _here!_ ” she laughs, so Jensen snaps his head down towards her, gritting his teeth as he growls again.

“Oh, so you _want_ me to get you, _huh?_ ”

She screams and takes off at full speed, and Jensen is off too as the twins burst into new fits of joy with the pursuit.

“You better run, Jaybird!” he hoots, causing his eldest daughter to screech again, trying her best to escape his grasp, but he’s just too quick for her. Jensen laughs victoriously as he catches up and cuts her off just before the side yard, managing to pull her in while still keeping hold of the other two, and then they all come tumbling down onto the grass in one big pile of sandy blonde hair and delightful grins.

“You’re all crazy!” Danneel yells, but when Jensen looks up at her—she doesn’t look like she’s moved an inch.

“And you’re _lazy!_ ” he yells back.

The woman just gives him a thumbs up before propping her hands behind her head to get more comfortable.

Jensen chuckles ... and then he smirks, knowing that he’ll get in trouble for it, but he’s having too much fun to care. “Hey, guys … what do you say we go dogpile on Mommy?” he asks, voice low and dubious.

His three kids are running at Danneel in an instant, and he’s right on their heels again, ready to make his wife angry, and _also_ ready to make some more wholesome family memories while he still has the chance.

The kids have settled down, all three snacking on graham crackers and popsicles, waiting for the firework show to start on the other side of the lake. Jensen holds Danneel’s hand as she sits in the chair next to his on the deck of their house. Normally, they’d be hosting a big barbeque with friends and family, and there’d be about two dozen more children running around this place, filling it with a constant din of screams and laughter; but as he listens to the crickets start to chirp, and as he watches the lightening bugs flit down around the grass, he thinks he might like this better. As least—for this year anyway, with all its chaos and uncertainty. It’s nice having a peaceful holiday with just the five of them instead of something bigger.

“How are you feeling, babe?” Danneel asks suddenly, and the question catches Jensen off guard.

“ _Uh_ —fine, why?” he laughs, squeezing her hand in his own. “Did you poison my beer or something—as payback for the dogpile?”

She looks at the bruise on her arm from where Zepp kneed her and smirks. Then she glares at Jensen from the corner of her eye, but her face sobers again quickly. “ _No_ —I mean, how are you feeling about _everything_. You know, with the show? I know you have to go back soon, so I just want to check in and make sure you’re okay.”

He squeezes her hand again—but it’s a whole different gesture now. “I’m fine, hun. I mean … don’t get me wrong, I’m sad and I’m anxious to know how it’ll all turn out, especially now that we know the network has yet another scheme to ‘fix’ the finale; but like … I dunno, it’s weird. This whole Covid-thing kinda softened the blow. I don’t know if it’s because it’s given me time to process it, or if it’s because everything is already so screwed up, I just kinda lost hope for anything good; so like … I’m not as stressed out as I thought I’d be.”

His wife frowns at him, sitting up a little straighter in her seat as the sky grows darker behind her. “Well—I don’t know if that’s _good_ , or just really sad.”

Jensen chuckles. “Yeah, me either.”

“But hey … at least you still had that scene with Misha, right? That should be good, shouldn’t it?”

Now it’s Jensen’s turn to frown. “I don’t know … I hope so. I told you that they want me to record some ADR for it once I get out of quarantine, right?”

Danneel nods.

“I don’t really know what part I’m re-recording thought, but the fact that they’re having me do it at all makes me think they’re already cutting the scene to hell.”

“Is that what Andrew said?”

Jensen nods back at her. “More or less. When I called him the other day, he basically said the network had some concerns about what that scene implied, so I need to record audio for some ‘adjustments’. Which obviously means, they want to edit the script after the fact.”

“I’m so sorry, babe” Danneel says softly, lifting his hand in hers so she can kiss his knuckles.

Jensen offers her a sad smile. “It is what it is.”

“Well—how is Misha handling it?”

His smile gets even sadder because he hates his answer. “I don’t really know. Haven’t been able to talk to him much.”

Danneel sighs. “He _has_ been busy, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah, but you know how he gets.”

“I do … and I know how _you_ get when you don’t get to see him.” His wife watches his face closely, eventually pressing her chin into her shoulder, as if she’s trying to hide from the answer to her next question. “Speaking of which … what’s gonna happen after filming ends? Like, for _you two?_ ”

Jensen pulls his hand away and rubs his temple, groaning helplessly before rolling his head back to look at the overhang above the deck. The ceiling-fans are spinning and he tracks the blades with his eyes. “I don’t really know.”

“You guys haven’t talked about it?” Danneel asks, an obvious shock to her voice.

Jensen shrugs. “No—not really. He brought it up once a while ago, but it was at the worst possible time, and we couldn’t really hash anything out.”

“So … you just … _never_ brought it up again?” Her tone loses its _shock_ and it’s replaced with _accusation._

Jensen scoffs. “Haven’t really found the right time, Danneel.”

“Well, have you even tried?”

The truth is, _he hasn’t_ —either because he’s been avoiding the conversation, or he’s been preoccupied with a million other things. Most likely, a combination of both, but he really doesn’t like being made to feel guilty about that. “Jeez, what’s with the lecture?” he snipes, shooting an annoyed glance to his wife. “When was I supposed to bring it up? During filming? On that plane when we were about to crash? Between photo ops? Or, _on a phone call_ that the guy is too busy to even answer?”

Danneel glowers at him and purses her lips, “You know what I mean, Jensen.”

“I actually don’t! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but up until a month ago, I’ve been pretty god damn busy. _Hell_ —I hope you _have_ noticed because you’ve been right there with me for a lot of the work! Chaos Machine? The Brewing Company? Supernatural? The fundraisers? I mean— _you know_ what my life is like.”

“Yes— _and_ I also know that Misha has been there for a lot of that too; and it’s not like the show ending this season is some _new_ event. I’m just honestly surprised that you guys didn’t discuss it right when you made the choice to stop the series.”

“Well, I guess we’re both forgetful idiots then, aren’t we? _There_. You happy?”

His wife is most definitely _not._ “I hope you know—I am making the conscious choice not to yell at you for how you’re speaking to me, because I know that the only reason you’re this upset is because you’re afraid about what a conversation with Misha might actually bring up. I know that you’re nervous to talk to him about your relationship because you don’t want anything to change, and I know that change scares you. So, since it’s a scary subject, and since I am determined to enjoy the fireworks with the man I love—I am not going to yell; and I suggest you try to cool off too, because if you just take a minute to think about it, you’ll see you’re not actually mad at me… you are mad _at the situation_.”

Jensen huffs, even angrier now that he’s been called out, while also feeling guilty for being angry at all. “I’m gonna go get another beer” he says, yanking himself out of his chair to head back into the house.

“I’ll take one too, please” Danneel chirps, doing just as she said she would and remaining unphased by his little outburst.

Jensen steps inside and slams the screen door shut—although, the heavy frame can’t really _slam_ because they installed stoppers to keep the kids from smashing their fingers in it. So, he stomps his way into the kitchen, choosing to slam the fridge door instead. And then he pulls out his phone, wanting to call Misha and vent to him but stops himself, knowing that if he does that, then he’d have to explain what made him so upset in the first place, which means he’d have to talk about how they _haven’t talked_. They haven’t really talked about anything—and that’s when Jensen realizes, his wife is right.

_He's scared._

_He’s fucking terrified,_ because once filming is over and he flies back to Austin, there’s no telling when he’ll make it up North again. And before the pandemic, he didn’t think that that would be a big deal. Yeah, filming Supernatural gave him a great excuse to see Misha all the time; but it’s not like he doesn’t have the means to hop on any flight he wants to to make a quick trip up to Washington. But now … with this insane virus and no end in sight, he doesn’t have a clue what his options are. And as fun as sexy-video chats can be, they’re just not the same as holding the guy in his hands; and Jensen doesn’t know what will happen to their relationship if they won’t be able to touch each other more than a few times a year.

He sighs. The icy beers he took from the fridge are chilling his fingers as chills run up his spine. He _is_ dreading that conversation, and his wife knows it, and Misha probably knows it too, or else he would’ve brought it up more than just that one time.

_Fuck._

Jensen shuffles back out to the deck, handing Danneel a bottle with his tail between his legs. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are” she says softly.

“You’re right.”

“I know that too.”

He smiles at her—eyes widening as her face lights up with colors; and the _boom_ of the fireworks drown out the cricket songs, but they’re still not loud enough to drown out the thoughts now screaming inside his head _._


	4. Chapter 4

The flight touched down late Saturday afternoon, and Clif was already waiting with the car to pick him up. Jared had flown in earlier that day on his jet—and Jensen would’ve probably gone with him if he hadn’t gotten pulled into a conference call with Kripke and the Prime Network people to talk over his contract for The Boys. So, he had to take a commercial flight instead; which, was honestly fine with him since he wasn’t too eager to set foot on Jared’s plane again.

_Commercial is fine. A lot of safety checks in commercial._

“Hey, brother. How was the flight?” Clif asks, sounding slightly gruffer through the thick mask on his face.

Jensen walks over to the trunk of the SUV and tosses his bag in. “Long. Boring … _the usual;_ but at least no engines exploded.”

“Yeah, well—that’s always a good thing.”

“No kidding” Jensen laughs. “So—is Misha already at the condo?” he asks, barely waiting a beat.

Clif’s face is a stone and gives _nothing_ away, even though Jensen is one hundred percent sure the man has known about their relationship from the start. “Yup. He’s there.”

“Cool—cool.” Jensen clears his throat. “Alright, well … let’s get this quarantine started!” He claps his hands together, rubbing them back and forth like he’s whittling out excitement from the air.

But Clif just nods and turns back toward the car, climbing in without another word.

“Yeesh” Jensen mutters.

He loves the guy, but sometimes Clif can be a touch on the rigid side; however, nothing can dampen his mood right now, because he’s about to go see his man for the first time in five months.

And he can’t wait … _he really, really can’t wait!_

And obviously, he knows they still need to talk, and he knows that the next month will be a rough one—with the finale and all the goodbyes; but right now, all that matters is _soon_ , Misha will be in his arms again.

The man of his dreams will be back in his arms.

Jensen pushes open the front door, hoping to see Misha as soon as he’s inside, but he doesn’t—so he closes the door behind him and sets down his bags, tossing his keys onto the coffee table as he heads through to living room and down the hall. “Mish?” he calls, eventually walking into the bedroom, but the man isn’t there either. Jensen frowns, until he hears the shower running. That frown backflips into a filthy grin, and he’s immediately stripping out of all his clothes. He then slips in through the cracked bathroom door on tipped toes, watching Misha soap himself up through the steamy glass. “Hey” he says, finally opening the shower so he can climb inside with him.

Misha jerks away with a start, relaxing a second later when he sees who it is. “ _Jesus_ —you coulda warned me you were here.”

“I called out to you. _You_ didn’t answer.”

“ _I didn’t hear you_ ” Misha snips, but he’s smiling—and it’s a gentle, comfortable smile … the kind that Jensen has been dreaming about every night for the last five months, and he simply can’t wait any longer.

Even though he loves their stupid bickering, and he loves just standing around simply _looking_ at the man, he’s been missing Misha too damn much to just hang around and talk; so, Jensen rushes forward, pressing him into the shower wall and kissing him with everything he has.

And Misha returns it all and then some, reaching down and grabbing Jensen’s ass as their teeth clash, squeezing and pulling apart his cheeks like he’s kneading dough. “I missed you” he grunts into Jensen’s mouth, and Jensen mutters it back, following the sentiment closely with his tongue.

They’re both already hard, but Jensen has been imagining and re-imagining how he’d celebrate seeing Misha again, and after that amazing little Zoom call the two of them shared with Danneel, Jensen thinks that it’s _Misha’s_ turn to be controlled. So, with one more kiss, he flips the man around, grinding up against his backside and loving how Misha’s firm body doesn’t give an inch.

“You want to fuck me, Jen?” Misha purrs—clearly _up_ for the idea, and Jensen growls his affirmation against the back of the man’s neck, biting his shoulder and then licking the edge of his ear. “Well …” Misha chuckles, “ _go on_.”

Jensen doesn’t need to be told twice, and he’s rushing to open the shower door back up so he can grab the waterproof lube they keep on the shelf outside. It’s in a discrete bottle so the maid is none the wiser, but—needless to say, shower sex is common enough between the two of them that lube has to be kept at an arm’s length. Jensen pops the top off and drips some onto his fingers, rubbing it between his thumb and index as he looks Misha up and down. “Fast or slow?” he asks, and Misha cocks his head to the side.

“ _Fast_ … I need you in me.”

Jensen shutters, quickly rubbing some lube up his shaft too before setting the bottle down on the floor of the shower. Then, he steps in close to kick the man’s legs apart, spreading him wide with two slick fingers before pressing them inside to begin opening him up.

Misha gasps and bears down against Jensen’s knuckles, but he’s still grinning wildly, and his cock is already smearing precum against the shower wall.

Jensen slides his fingers out again and then thrusts them back, scissoring them open and closed, waiting for Misha’s muscles to relax. “You feel me, Mish? You feel me inside of you?”

“Fuck, _yes_ …” Misha groans, eyes closed as he pants. Water is streaming down the man’s face as it sprays from the nozzle, and it reminds Jensen of the champagne—fountaining from the bottles and soaking their clothes. He remembers how he poured it into Misha’s mouth until it dripped down his lips and chin … which makes him think of how the man broke down right _after_ that photoshoot … which then reminds Jensen of how sad he looked when he tried to talk to him about what will become of their relationship once the show is over, and how Jensen _avoided_ the subject; which ultimately leads him back to _Danneel_ , insisting that they need to talk about everything before it’s too late.

Jensen slips his fingers away, but this time, he doesn’t slide them back in.

“Jen? Wh—why’d you stop?” Misha asks, still panting but his eyes are open again and he’s looking at him over his shoulder.

Jensen shakes his head, not wanting to think about this now. He _can’t_ think about this now. He just wants to have Misha in the way he’s always had him— _completely_ and without the outside world breaking their bubble and ruining things. Jensen just wants things to stay as they are. So, he doesn’t answer, nor does he open Misha up anymore—he just wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s chest, hugging him close before pressing his cock into him slow.

Misha gasps with the sudden fullness, but Jensen knows that there’s more to it than that—the man knows him too well. “Jensen …?” Misha whispers, grabbing onto Jensen’s wrists with one hand as he braces himself against the shower wall with the other.

Jensen leans his head against Misha’s spine, breathing him in and letting the warm water run down his head and mix with the warm tears that are breaching his eyes.

“Wh-what’s wrong?”

He stays quiet, thrusting erratically as he tries not to cry; but he’s overwhelmed with lust and love and worry, pent up and too friable _not_ to explode with the slightest prick; and Misha’s concern for him is a giant needle. He’s finishing after just a few more thrusts—knees shaking, heart racing, eventually slipping out and collapsing to the ground with a _thud_. The tears come faster than he did, so he scoots against the back of the shower to fold into himself and hide them away.

Misha grunts as he crawls down next to him—clearly sore from that lackluster moment; but thankfully, he’s much too good a man to complain while Jensen is so blatantly falling apart. “Jensen … what’s going on?”

Jensen sniffles, shivering in spite of the hot water steaming around them. “I—I just don’t want things to change” he whispers, burying his face further into his arms as they circle around his knees.

Misha leans their heads together, kissing Jensen’s wet hair. He then wraps his fingers around Jensen’s wrist and pulls him into his chest, holding him by the shoulders as soon as Jensen buries into him. “I know … I know. You’ve been doing this show for fifteen years. It’s bound to hit you hard at _some point_.”

Jensen pulls back again, glaring at the other man as the shower beats against them both. “I’m not talking about the show, Mish … I’m talking about us!”

Misha’s mouth hangs open, but he doesn’t say anything— _perhaps,_ he doesn’t know what to say.

Jensen sighs, squinting his eyes as he tries to rub away the tears. “I know … I know it’s my fault we haven’t talked about what’s going to happen once the show it over, but that’s only because I’m so fucking freaked out! It was already going to be hard, but now with all this fucking _virus_ shit, I have no idea how we’re going to make this work and … _fuck!_ I hate even fucking saying that out loud!” The tears start up again, and his chest heaves in a panic.

“Jensen— _woah_ , hey…” Misha whispers, trying to hug him once more but Jensen won’t budge now, feeling like he _doesn’t_ _deserve_ any affection anymore. Misha frowns. “You don’t think _I’m_ terrified? Look, I appreciate you trying to take the blame here, but I could’ve just as easily pushed you to talk about it again; but I didn’t. _I’m scared too_. I have gotten so used to seeing you every few weeks over the last decade, that this past five months have been absolute _torture_. And then … just thinking about that going on? Lasting longer? Plus, with everything else that’s wrong with the world… I’m a wreck! You _know_ I am! You’ve been watching me fall apart for months” Misha groans, and Jensen sees tears begin to fill his eyes too. “I just want to stay in this shower with you forever. I want to hide away with you until we’re nothing but bags of bones; but we obviously can’t do that—so, I’ve just avoided having this talk.”

Jensen nods, actually feeling a little better now that he’s heard he’s not alone in his fear.

“Look … let’s shower, dry off, order some food and then we can sit down and have a real conversation about this, okay? We have two whole weeks with nothing better to do than to try and figure things out, and I think we’ll both relax once we finally stop avoiding it.”

Jensen nods again, knowing that Misha’s right; while also knowing that they could talk every minute of every day all the way through filming and _still_ have no answers, and that almost scares him more than what might become of them. However, some good food and a soft couch _does_ sound really nice right now, so he lets Misha help him back to his feet and they wash each other’s hair, enjoying these last few moments of serenity before everything begins to change.

***

“I can’t move my family, Jensen.”

“I’m not asking you to—”

“Yes you are! And if you think it’s so easy, then _you_ move!”

They’ve been going around in circles for days—saying the same things, asking the same questions, and succeeding in _nothing_ but building the tension in the condo to near toxic levels.

“You already know I can’t do that. I have other family in Austin, and Jared’s there, and the brewery and—”

“And _I_ got ties in Washington, so …”

“ _So_ …” Jensen sighs, “so, I _still_ have no idea what to do, then.”

Misha huffs, washing the plate in his hands a little too hard. “I don’t either” he snaps, tossing the dish into the drying rack beside the sink and sending it clattering against the wires and cracking along the edge.

“Jeez, calm down” Jensen says, picking up the plate again to inspect the damage.

“I’m just … _ah!_ ” Misha growls, stomping off from the sink so he can pace around the living room. “I don’t know how to fix this! I don’t know how to fix anything! I’m trying! I try to raise money and I try to get people to vote. I try to make them _laugh_ and _think_ and _care_ about what matters; but then I turn around and I … I can’t even find a way to _see_ the man I love? What the fuck even is that? What am I doing? I feel so fucking useless! I can’t _change_ anything. I can’t _fix_ anything! I’m just sitting here wasting my God damn time quarantining for a show that doesn’t even want me! That’s on a network that doesn’t respect me! All so I can … can … _can what?_ Wear a fucking trench coat one more time? People are actually dying out there, and I’m stuck in this condo, unable to solve even the smallest problem. I’m fucking useless!”

“None of that is true, Mish. _None of it_ ” Jensen barks, trying to step closer to the man, but Misha holds up his hands and moves away. “Misha … you’re spiraling.”

“Yeah. _Thanks_. I’m fucking aware of that, Jensen!” Misha spits, turning his back to him to stare out the window.

Jensen sighs, deciding to take a page out of his wife’s book now. “I’m not going to get upset because I know that you’re just scared … scared about so many other things besides us.”

Misha huffs and folds his arms across his chest, but he doesn’t turn back around and he doesn’t say anything else.

Jensen tosses the towel he was using to dry dishes onto the counter so he can walk over and face the man. “Mish, we’ll figure it out, okay?” he says, rubbing the sides of Misha’s arms.

“How? How are we gonna do that, Jensen? Because we’ve been talking for days and we’ve gotten nowhere! Neither of us can move, and who knows what this pandemic has in store next, so the next time we see each other after the show is over might very well be at my fucking funeral!”

Jensen tilts back, exhaling hard with the weight of that statement. “Jesus, that’s a bit dark don’t ya think?”

Misha’s eyes are wild, and Jensen can see the man’s mind racing laps behind them, but once he notes the worried look on Jensen’s face—he settles some. “Sorry. _I’m sorry_. I’m … well, you’re right. I’m overwhelmed and I’m scared to say the least.” He rubs his hand over his forehead and puts the other on his hip, eventually shuffling over to sit himself in one of the dining room chairs.

Jensen follows him, sitting down too before reaching out to touch Misha’s knee. “I know. I am too; but we—”

A knock on the front door breaks his train of thought.

Jensen groans as he gets up again to go answer it.

A courier is on the other side—a long mask covering the majority of his face. “Delivery for Mr. Ackles and Mr. Collins” he says in a chipper, Canadian twang.

Jensen turns back to Misha and waves him over so they can both sign for the envelopes; and once they do—the guy hands them off and walks away. Jensen shuts the door, staring down at the large manila packet in his hand. It has the CW stamp on it and “Confidential” typed in big, block lettering across the front.

Misha opens his first, pulling out the finale script and grimacing at it like it’s the most unthoughtful gift he’s ever received.

But as Jensen opens _his_ envelope, he notices _two_ scripts inside—one for 15x19 and the other, for the finale. “Mine’s bigger” he jokes ruefully, and Misha rolls his eyes.

“Not surprised. Want to bet on how many lines I got?” Misha asks rhetorically.

Pulling out the finale script first, Jensen quickly flips through to the last few pages, unsure if he really wants to read them or not. “Shit” he whispers after his eyes have a chance to scan the scenes … he suspected as much, but seeing it all on the page only makes it worse _._

“What?” Misha asks warily.

“There’s no reunion scene.”

Misha shakes his head a little. “Well, I mean, with Covid …”

“Yeah but like, they couldn’t get _anyone?_ I mean, I see Jim’s name here … but _that’s it_. No one else. It’s just, not happening.”

“I guess they figured if they can’t get _everyone_ , then better not to do it at all.”

“Jeez, Mish. Why are you defending them all of a sudden?”

Misha throws up his hands defensively. “God, I’m not—I’m just being reasonable.”

“Great… _now_ you’re being reasonable” Jensen mutters.

Nostrils flare as those blue eyes rain fire on him. “ _What_ was that?” Misha snaps.

“Nothing.”

“Are you serious right now, Jensen?”

Jensen sighs and then shakes his head. “No … no, I’m sorry. I’m being a dick. We’re both _clearly_ on edge right now.”

Misha takes a deep breath. “Yeah … _we are_.”

“Sorry” Jensen says again, hoping that Misha can see his sincerity.

And thankfully, he can. Misha sighs too. “So am I. I know how much you were looking forward to that reunion scene.”

“Yeah, I really was” Jensen groans.

Misha nods and then begins to flip through his own script, scouring each page to find his part; and he looks … _and he looks._

Jensen glances up at him, watching the man’s face darken more and more with the turn of each page. “What?” he asks, fearing he already knows the answer.

“I have zero fucking lines.”

Jensen swallows hard. He of course, already told Misha about Meredith’s idea on how to include Cas in the finale, but he didn’t necessarily describe it how she did. He wanted to, but Misha just looked so thrilled by the news that he was actually going to be _in_ the final episode, that Jensen ended up making the whole thing sound better than it was; saying that when Dean drove off through heaven, him and Cas would have a scene together. Looking back now, he realizes that that was _not_ the best way to describe it because it implied there was a lot more to the moment than what the network allotted for. “I’m sorry” he whispers, turning away to avoid Misha’s eyes.

“I thought you said they were going to give us one last scene together?”

Jensen cowers a little behind his script.

So, Misha bends down too, trying to catch his eye. “Isn’t that what you told me?”

“ _Uh_ …” Jensen mutters, biting his lip, really wishing he had just explained everything to Misha from the start. “I mean, we _do technically_ have a scene together, right?”

“ _What?_ You mean, me—off in some distant field just watching you drive by?”

Jensen shrugs.

“Seriously?” Misha scoffs.

“I didn’t have any control over it, okay? Neither did the writers … that idea was the closest they could come to having us reunite without the network pitching a fit!”

Misha tosses the script onto the coffee table and then leans back on the couch, licking his lips as he stares across the room, seeming like he’s about two seconds away from murdering someone. “ _I get that_ …” he grits out slowly, words sharp and lethal, “but if you knew about it, why didn’t you just _tell me?_ ”

Jensen makes a strangled sound, but Misha cuts him off before it can turn into words.

“You know I’m not some diva, Jensen. _For Christ’s sake_ —I’ve obviously gotten used to having very few lines considering how many episodes we’ve shot; so, why the hell wouldn’t you just _tell_ _me_ ahead of time that I have zero fucking lines in the finale?”

“I was just happy you were _in_ the finale, okay?” Jensen yelps, unable to hold it in any longer. “I was fucking thrilled! I just wanted you there, because you deserve to be there! And … I _was_ going to tell you since you were already resigned to not being in it at all, but then … you looked so damn excited that they found a way to include you. I just didn’t want to ruin that. It was stupid, _I know_ , and I know you would’ve been fine with it if I had just given you a head’s up … I’m sorry, alright? I’m really sorry.”

Misha takes a deep breath, clearly needing to center himself because he can see that Jensen feels bad about all this. “Alright … I get it. I understand where you’re coming from. It just caught me off guard is all, and with everything else that’s happening, I just … _really_ didn’t want any more surprises.”

“I know” Jensen murmurs, still feeling terrible like he _has_ been feeling terrible for days. “But … at least you’ll be there … _with me?_ ”

Misha looks him over, face softening as the seconds pass them by, and then, with one more heavy exhale, he stands, walking towards him to squeeze in beside Jensen on the armchair. “Yeah. At least I’ll be there with _you_.”

They continue to read the finale script together—from the beginning this time, and their frowns grow and their worry-lines deepen with every line and bit of stage direction that ripples down the pages. Suddenly, Misha’s phone glows in his pocket, and they both look down as he fishes it out. “It’s Jared” he says, answering it and putting it on speaker a moment later. “ _Hey_.”

“You guys get yours?” Jared asks.

“I hope you’re talking about the scripts” Misha jokes, and it’s a nice change from the lethal temperament he’s been showcasing the last few days.

Jared snorts, but he doesn’t really seem to be in a joking mood for once. “Yeah. I think I’m starting to see why Ackles is so pissed.”

“I’m here too” Jensen announces, tugging Misha closer to him—feeling like they all need to be united in this.

Jared doesn’t miss a beat. “I get it now, man. I mean … you die on a fucking piece of metal? They coulda at least had one of the vampires rip your throat out or something.”

“They probably want him to die pretty” Misha says—but they all know, _that’s not a joke._ That’s probably a hundred percent the reason the network chose _this_ death for Dean. It won’t bloody up his face, so he can die the heartthrob the network sold him to be.

“And then—what the fuck is with Sam just letting it happen? He doesn’t call for help? He doesn’t pray to Jack? Did you read 15x19? They _did_ make Jack the new Chuck, so like … the brothers are just _sleeping_ on that miracle then?”

Jensen shrugs, and Misha grumbles his solidarity.

“And it seems short, doesn’t it?” Jared asks, and they can hear the man flipping through the script again on his end of the line.

“They cut the reunion” Jensen says flatly.

“Yeah, t _hat’s it!_ That’s what’s missing. Fuck, man! Y’all really called it. This shit is a fucking mess.”

Jensen chuckles in spite of it all. “Told you.”

“God damnit, and I’m gonna have to pretend it isn’t.”

Jensen furrows his brow and then takes the phone from Misha’s hand, holding it closer to his mouth as questions what his best friend is saying. “What do you mean?”

“I’m still the CW’s bitch, man. What’dya think they’ll do if I start mouthin’ off about this shit?”

Jensen and Misha both look at one another, nodding with brows raised. “Yeah, true.”

“You could just not say anything” Misha offers.

And Jared blows a raspberry into the phone. “ _Pft_ , yeah right! _Nah_ , I’m gonna have to fake it ‘til I make it through the Walker pilot, if not longer.”

“Sorry, man” Jensen mutters, because _that does suck._ He and Misha are _lucky_ in that respect. After Supernatural is over, they won’t really owe the network anything. They’ll still be obligated to keep their opinions quiet, but they won’t be expected to wave the company banner anymore.

“Whatever. It is what it is” Jared grumbles, still rustling papers and sighing into the receiver.

“Yeah” Jensen agrees bitterly. “ _It is what it is_.”

***

The filming for the second to last episode went quickly—and it was fun. The script wasn’t _horrible_ , but Jensen didn’t like how choppy it seemed given how much story they had to cover in such little time. Either way though, he got to spend several days messing around with Jake, Rob and Alex, which was nice considering they hadn’t seen each other since the convention in Vegas. Overall, even though there were a lot of big moments, it didn’t feel like they were on the precipice of the end. It just felt … _normal_ , and that only made everything worse; because, when he walked into the sound studio for his ADR appointment, he had forgotten that this wasn’t just a quick re-take of lines, or some extra grunts to add into a fight scene. This was the network’s last-ditch effort to ruin what they’ve built, and he was reminded of that as soon as he saw Andrew standing at the end of the hall.

Even with a mask on, the nerves are apparent on Andrew’s face, and he wrings his hands together as Jensen approaches him. “Hey” he says, his voice higher than normal.

“ _Hey_ …?” Jensen mutters, because there is absolutely no reason for Andrew to be here other than to ensure Jensen actually does what the network is asking of him. “What’s going on?”

“Well …” Andrew says, looking over to the studio door with downturned eyes, “you know we’re here for 15x18, right?”

Jensen nods, not liking where _he thinks_ this is going.

“Well …” Andrew says again, “they – I mean, the network, they _um_ …”

“How much am I redoing?” Jensen groans, because he knows it’ll be a lot.

“That’s the thing” Andrew mutters. “It’s only a few seconds.”

“Oh” And his surprise also gives him some hope; but the look in Andrew’s eyes kills it quickly. “Wait … _which_ _seconds?_ ”

The man’s gaze shifts the ground. “The last ones…” Andrew says.

“Where Dean says ‘me too’? _Those last seconds?_ ”

Andrew nods.

“For fucks—” Jensen whips around, throwing his hands into the air in frustration. “And let me guess, they cut a bunch of the dialogue _before_ _that_ too, right?”

Andrew holds his breath and then nods again.

“So, what’s even left Andrew? What’s even left in that scene?”

“A lot! Okay, there’s _still a lot_ , and Misha is still getting a beautiful sendoff; but … it’s just not—it’s not giving off the same _vibe_ as we had originally planned.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning…” Andrew says somberly, “everything is going to be a bit more _ambiguous_ than how Bobo had written it.”

“ _Fuck_ …” Jensen whispers, because _that_ might actually be worse than just cutting the scene altogether. The one thing— _the one thing_ that Misha was excited about more than anything else, was how definitive Cas’s confession would be, and how clear it would be to the audience that he was _in-love_ with Dean. He was finally getting a chance to speak his truth and represent something that’s so often overlooked in film. “So, that’s it then? The network just stuck it’s hand in and ripped away everything meaningful?”

Andrew looks up at him, shaking his head—seeming to feel just as helpless as Jensen does. “I’m sorry, Jensen. I wish it was different.”

“Yeah, well—you could’ve fought harder” he snips, even though … he knows deep down, _that’s not fair_.

Andrew sighs. “If I didn’t care about getting another job after this—I would have; but I _don’t_ have that luxury _,_ so you know I couldn’t. The network would’ve blacklisted me in the industry.”

Jensen lets out a low breath, finally giving in with a nod. “I know. I know—I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I just … I still can’t believe this is how it’s all going down.”

Andrew reaches out—about to touch Jensen’s shoulder and comfort him, but then he remembers that they all need to keep their distance. He sighs again. “I know. You have no idea how much this is breaking my heart.”

***

The mood on set is subdued—everyone is quiet as they get things ready; and when Jensen and Jared walk onto set, no one stops to say hello, no one even turns to look at them. They all just avoid each other’s eyes like this is the last place they want to be, and the two men don’t think they’ve ever seen the crew act this way … _not on the set of Supernatural._

Karen walks up behind them—her phone in one hand and a clipboard in the other, and suddenly, everyone’s mood makes _a lot more_ sense. She turns around to eye them both before saying a brisk _hello_ and walking off once more. Jensen imagines she’s on her way to find a puppy to kick; and considering there _is_ a dog on set today, that’s not an unlikely scenario.

“Jesus” Jared grumbles, squinting at the woman like her harshness is hurting his eyes.

“Yup. _She’s a peach_ ” Jensen says, having to eventually turn his back to her because he’s already on edge, and a bitchy network exec noting his attention is the last thing he needs.

“ _Psst._ ”

Jensen and Jared both turn around to see George, the set director standing next to Perry, one of the set dressers—and they’re waving them over towards the alcove as they hide behind a forklift.

“ _Um_ … what’s _that_ all about?” Jared mutters, bending down to Jensen’s ear.

“No idea” Jensen says, but he starts walking over to the crewmen, only to be yanked further back into the shadows once he gets there. Soon, he and Jared are masked-face to masked-face with not only Perry and George, but also Crystal from costumes, and Zabrina from make-up, along with a couple of the other make-up and set assistants. “ _Umm_ … hey, guys” Jensen says with a nervous laugh.

“No time for pleasantries” George grunts—ducking low and looking around the group, wide eyed behind his mask. “We all’ve been really bitter about how this finale is going down, and we heard through the grapevine that you two aren’t too thrilled with it either.”

Jared nods, even though he was on board at one point—the finale has been so mutilated and washed out over the last few rewrites, he’s begun to hate it as much as Jensen does.

“Alright, well since that’s the case… we were wondering if you’d go along with some ‘fuck yous’ to the network?” George’s eyes are shining with mischief, and Jensen looks around to the others. They all have the same dubious glint.

“What did you have in mind?” he asks, still being cautious because nothing like this has ever happened before. They weren’t the group who plotted and schemed. They were the group that had fun and partied.

_What is happening?_

“Well…” George says, pulling out a tightly scrawled list from his back pocket, “pretty much every department has done _something_ … something that will most likely fly under the network’s radar, but it’ll be just _bad_ or _weird_ enough for the viewers to take notice.”

That makes Jensen lean back, surprised with what he’s hearing. “Wait … I don’t get it. You’re trying to make the finale _worse?_ ”

George shrugs, so Perry jumps in. “Yeah, _totally_. Because if it sucks just because of the network’s takeover in the writing room, that’ll fall on _us_ —like, the rest will have to look and sound really, really good to make up for it; which, we all know is basically impossible at this point.” The rest of the group hums and grunts in agreement. “But…” Perry continues, “if we _embrace_ the fact that it’ll be bad, and then make it _really, really_ bad … like, _comically_ bad, then that will haunt the network for as long as they run the show.”

“So, if they want a bad ending—you’re making sure they get one?” Jared laughs, eyes lighting up with the lunacy of it all, but Jensen still isn’t sure.

“I don’t know, guys…”

“Just listen to our ideas” George says quickly. “Most of them, you probably wouldn’t even notice; but there’s a couple that we won’t do if you two aren’t cool with ‘em.”

“Okay… like …?” Jensen asks.

George nods and then holds out the paper in front of him so he can read it. “Okay, so you know how they’re gonna kill you off right?”

Dean nods, because _obviously._

George nods back. “Okay, well—we think that’s _fucking stupid_ ; so, we’re going to put a bunch of things on set to show that it’s not what _we_ wanted to see.”

“Like what?” Jensen asks incredulously.

“Like a second lamp in Dean’s bedroom to represent Cas … _and the absence of Cas_.”

“A lamp?” Jensen grunts.

“Yeah, the fans have already drawn a connection between lamps and Castiel. Like, _he’s an angel, he’s light_. Also, Dean danced with a lamp earlier this season. _It’s a whole thing_.”

Jensen nods, bewildered by all this information and wishing that Misha was here to explain futher, but thanks to Covid resitrictions, he had to stay at the condo since he wasn't in any scenes today. “ _Alright_ …”

“Also, there’ll be a job application on Dean’s desk. We know how closely the fans look at our sets, so we want to show that Dean was looking forward to living.”

“Not a job application” Perry corrects. “We made a _job-acceptance_ letter. Dean _got_ a job.”

Jensen scrunches up his face, not understanding the connection.

George sighs. “The fans will see that Dean _didn’t_ _want to die._ They’ll see that he was excited to live, and it’ll imply that maybe—maybe he even wanted to get out of hunting. He had hope for the future, so it’ll go against what the _script_ is trying to imply.”

Jensen shrugs. “Alright, well that’s not that big of a deal. Go for it if you—” but George cuts him off.

“Yeah, well—that’s not what we need your permission on.”

“Then why are you … _ugh_ , just tell me what you’re thinking, George” Jensen grumbles because, this guy always takes the _scenic route_ to the point.

“ _Okay, okay_ … someone—someone show him the rebar” George says, looking around to the rest of the group, and suddenly, a very _phallic_ and _erect_ looking piece of prop-metal appears in between them. “ _This_ … this is what Dean’s getting impaled with.”

“ _Oh my god_ ” Jensen mutters, and Jared barks out a laugh—and is immediately shushed by everyone in the circle.

“That’s fucking awesome!” Jared hisses. “What do you got planned for me?”

Jensen gapes at his tall friend as the guy bounces excitedly on his heels.

And then it’s Crystal’s turn to jump in, smiling brightly through her face shield at the two of them. “Well, for Sam, we want to use one of those awful grey wigs … you know, one of the ones you wore for Misha’s welcome-back party?”

Jared’s face beams even more. “Oh! For when I’m an old man?” He’s getting shushed yet again. “Yes! Yes, let’s do it! It’ll look _so_ _bad!_ ”

Crystal laughs, holding up her finger to quiet him one more time. “Okay, we can probably only use it in one shot though. For the close-ups at the end, you’ll need to be in full make-up.”

“Fuck, _whatever_ —this is great guys” Jared laughs, finally turning back to Jensen and hitting him on the shoulder. “Right?”

Jensen smiles halfheartedly, still wondering how the hell they got to this point? How did it get to where people who have _lived_ and _breathed_ and _bled_ for this show for fifteen years, are now wanting to sabotage the finale because the network has fucked things up so badly?

Zabrina moves forward, touching Jensen’s arm, obviously knowing him fairly well after all these years. “Jensen, I know this is a lot, but we just want to have one final say in all this, one last bit of control before the network takes it away; and it isn’t fair, but since they won’t let us do anything to make this finale _better_ , we figured we can all at least try to have fun with it.”

“No … no, I get it” Jensen says finally, nodding up at her and then to the rest of them, these people that have become his extended family, and he would do anything they asked if it would help them out. “This is your show just as much as it is ours—hell, _more so_ even. Without all of you, we wouldn’t even be here … so, _I’m in_. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Everyone seems lifted by his comradery, and they all begin laughing and talking to one another in rapid, hushed tones—and this is as close to “normal” as they’ve gotten since they first walked on set.

“Just remember …” Jensen adds quickly, “we can’t go _completely_ off the rails here. If we treat this like it’s a Monty Python skit, the network will know something’s up.” He _has_ directed before after all. He knows how these things go.

“We’re not going to make you guys look like morons or anything” Perry cuts in. “I mean, Dean is still going to die, so obviously, Sam will be fucked up by that, and things will be emotional and heavy overall; but … we’re just looking at the _moments_ , _little moments_ that the network will miss but the fans will catch. Moments that they’ll all point to and go ‘Wait … what happened here?’ They’ll be our Easter Eggs. We know that _they know_ how hard we work, and how much we care about the product we put out for them; so, if there are these moments… like Dean getting impaled by a rod that looks like a dick, or Sam looking like a cheap rip-off of _Doc_ from Back to the Future, then—just like Zebby said, they’ll see that we tried to have one last bit of fun before it's all over. They’ll see that we _tried_ to make the show our own again.”

_Make the show our own again._

Jensen likes the sound of that, and suddenly—he’s feeling the excitement that everyone else is feeling. “Alright—show me the big, metal dick one more time; I think Dean might actually _enjoy_ dying now.”

***

Misha walks out into the field, dressed as Cas for the very last time, and Jensen watches him from behind the cameras. He looks sad, _serious_ —and no one except _him_ really knows why.

They roll the scene.

Misha squares his jaw, putting on his squinty Cas-expression, and then he turns his head slowly to the left, as if he’s watching something pass him by. In post-production, that _something_ will be Dean in the Impala, but for now, he’s staring at nothing while saying nothing, and it feels like a _much-too-nothing_ moment for such an important character.

“And, cut! Alright! That’s a series-wrap on Misha Collins.”

The crew applauds, and Misha is soon rushed by everyone who drove out to the location for the final scenes. A few hug him, forgetting about social distancing, while others cheer and congratulate him on all the wonderful years he’s spent as Castiel; and he smiles and nods, seeming genuinely touched … but Jensen can still see the pain in his face and the sadness in his eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

_None of this was how it was supposed to be._

***

They got back to the stages about an hour after the last shot on the bridge wrapped. It was just starting to get dark, so the large buildings seemed to loom in the twilight—shadows of what was.

Shrouded memories of happier times.

And perhaps the hardest part of it all was walking in to see the crew tear down the set. The Men of Letters Bunker didn’t only feel like a home to _Sam and Dean_ , but to both Jared and Jensen, and Misha too … and seeing those walls literally get broken in half and pulled apart? It left them all crying on each other’s shoulders for the latter half of the day.

Not that they hadn’t _already_ been crying.

In spite of all the ridiculous moments that they had to film, or _got_ to film thanks to their clever crew, it was still a rough couple of weeks; and knowing that they couldn’t even hold a big wrap party afterwards to give everyone the chance to celebrate the past fifteen seasons, just rubbed salt into the already gaping wound. Overall, it was an anticlimactic ending at best, and a horribly depressing one at worst. They waved goodbye to some, risked a hug from others, cried and reminisced here and there as the sets were dismantled—and then they were done.

Fifteen years … just _done._

So, Jared, Jensen and Misha all went back to the condo to order some food and get blackout drunk, knowing of no other way to cope at that point.

“ _Um_ , oh oh, _uh_ … what’dya call it? The episode that _um_ —BUGS! Yeah, Bugs. The whole _bee-thing!_ ”

Jensen shakes his head, watching through heavy lids as Jared sprawls out further onto the armchair—all _hair_ and _limbs_ and _crossed-eyes_ from the half bottle of whiskey he’s managed to drink all by himself. Thankfully, Jensen keeps plenty in stock, so him and Misha have had quite a bit too. “ _Nah_ , that was a shitty episode for _us_ , but it looked fine when it aired.”

And then Misha snaps his fingers. “I got it! That opening scene in season _… I want to say, ten?_ Where Jared, you had just broken your arm—”

Jensen immediately starts laughing. “Oh, fuck—that weird angle they shot you from, and then the dramatic-zoom! _Yes!_ I remember that!”

Jared laughs too, scrambling to sit upright before screaming, “Where’s my brother!” in his deepest Sam-voice.

They all crack up, but then, Jensen is waving his hand in the air to cut them off. “ _No, no, no_ —the wig was still _way_ worse than that.”

“Oh—I know! What about Michael’s mid-air fight with Lucifer?” Jared chuckles and then staggers all the way to his feet, trying to balance on one leg while as he stretches out his arms to look like he’s flying.

Misha quickly springs up as well (a bit more sober than the rest of them) and does a slow-motion punch to Jared’s jaw, and soon, they’re both reenacting the ridiculous scene move for move, _much to Jensen’s chagrin._

“Alright, alright—fuck off, both of you” Jensen grumbles. He really hates that scene. It looked so cool in his head.

“C’mon— _that was_ pretty bad” Misha laughs.

“Yeah, but Sam’s wig was worse” Jensen grunts, and the other two have to agree. The finale’s old-man wig is _still_ taking the cake in this little game.

“Oh, wait … nope. I thought of something better or— _worse_ in this case” Misha says, plopping down onto the couch beside Jensen, kicking up his legs a second later so they’re draped across Jensen’s lap. “ _Crowley’s hand_.”

Jensen throws his head back and _screams_ a laugh at ceiling, probably waking up everyone else in the condominium, but he doesn’t care, because he had _completely_ forgotten about that fucking animatronic hand! “Oh my god! Okay, _you’re right_ … I don’t know if that was _worse_ , but it was at least _equally-bad_.”

Jared nods, chuckling through pursed lips as he snaps his wrist backward, trying to imitate the scene. “I can’t even do it!” he laughs and then tries again.

“No shit. Your hand isn’t animatronic” Jensen snips, and Jared chucks a pillow at his face.

Their humor soon dies down, and eventually—they fall as quiet as the Vancouver night outside, all thinking to themselves about the last few days, and probably, about the days to come; which entices Jensen to get up and select a few more bottles of whiskey from the bar.

They all share some more drinks and eat some more Chinese food, and settle into the reality that— _it’s all over now,_ switching the mood from _silly_ to _somber_ between the cracks of freshly opened fortune cookies.

“You will pro-profit from a big change” Jared reads clumsily, shrugging before popping the cookie into his mouth. “Maybe it’s talkin’ ‘bout Walker?”

“It’s a cookie. It’s not _talking_ about anything” Misha mumbles, tossing another cookie at Jared’s head. It bounces off his temple and then tumbles into his lap.

But Jared is obviously too drunk and sleepy to care; so, he just picks up the projectile treat and opens it too, reading the second fortune aloud for everyone to hear. “You will profit from a big— _aww_ , it’s the same one!” He grunts and then eats the cookie while wearing a pitiful frown on his face.

Jensen rolls his eyes, because he has a lot more _realistic_ worries than pieces of prophetic paper packed into pastries. “What are we even gonna say about all this?”

Misha turns to him, lifting his chin in a gesture for Jensen to elaborate.

“Like… are we gonna try to _Tweet_ during the finale or whatever?”

“If you wanna” Jared mumbles, mouth still full of cookie.

“That’s the thing. I _don’t_ _want to_. I kind of just wanna be done with it.”

“Well, that’s not really realistic. We still have panels and conventions—plus, whatever crops up when the last three episodes air” Misha says, looking him over with sad eyes.

“I know, but I just don’t want to go spewing the party-line as if I’m cool with everything.”

“Then _don’t_ if you don’wanna” Jared mumbles quickly.

Jensen tosses a glance towards his friend, who’s looking like a deflated balloon at a kid’s birthday party. “How drunk are you?”

Jared snorts. “ _Very_ , but _that_ doesn’t matter. If you don’t wanna run off at the…the, _talky-hole_ —”

“Do you mean, ‘mouth’?” Misha laughs.

“Yeah, _that_. If you don’t wanna say all the company crap, then don’t! Just don’t go runnin’ off at the… _mouth…_ ” he points to Misha with a smile, and Misha gives him an exaggerated thumbs up, “…with your actual opinions.” Jared finishes with a bit too much fanfare for the point he’s making.

“I know _that_ ” Jensen huffs—because they all have the same clause in their contracts that basically translate to: _If you don’t have anything nice to say about the network, don’t say anything at all … or else you’ll get slapped with several debilitating lawsuits._

“I’m serious though, man” Jared continues in slurry, situating himself lower on the couch until he’s fully reclined. “If you don’t wanna say nothin’, then don’t. You really don’t havta anymore ... _me_ on the other hand. CW still _owns_ _my ass,_ so _I_ _havta_ play nice.”

Jensen and Misha exchange glances as Jared’s eyes flutter closed, and then he’s snoring before either of them can comment further on the situation.

“Well… he’s _sounds_ like an idiot, but he’s not wrong” Misha mutters with a laugh.

“I know. I just… I sound like a fucking broken record, but I _hate_ that it’s all turned out this way.”

Misha nods, finally standing up with his hand outstretched. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

Jensen sighs, lacing his fingers between Misha’s and immediately feeling better after he does; because that’s just the affect the guy has on him.

Once in the bedroom, Misha turns around and locks the door, moving back in front of Jensen soon after to help him take off his shirt. “Do you remember the first time we did this?” he asks, soft but serious, looking into Jensen’s eyes with so much love, it almost hurts to look back.

But he does— _he has to._ “In my trailer? _Of course_ I remember.”

Misha chuckles, peeling Jensen’s shirt from his body and then tossing it on the ground, leaving his hands free to glide over all his freckled skin. “I couldn’t believe that someone as beautiful, and smart, and as kind as you, would ever want _me._ I just didn’t think it was possible … and sometimes, I still don’t.”

Jensen blushes with the man’s touch, and even more with his words. “ _Mish_ … I think you’re still pretty drunk” he laughs, trying to ease up the tone that this talk is taking.

But Misha isn’t having it. “No— _I’m not_. I mean it, Jensen. You are the most wonderful man I know.” He looks down at his own fingers as they trace Jensen’s collarbone, nails dancing across it—feather-light and tickling. “And … I think I’m a little jealous of Cas.”

Jensen reaches up to hold Misha’s hand, stilling it until that blue washes over him again. “What do you mean?”

Misha sighs. “He was happy with just _knowing_ Dean … he was happy just _talking_ _about_ his love for him; but I _can’t_ do that. I’m more selfish.” He leans in and kisses Jensen lightly, as if it was more for the closeness than the act itself. “I need to be able to touch you. I want to be able to kiss you and feel you beside me when I go to sleep. I don’t … I don’t know if I can be happy without that.”

Jensen closes his eyes, nodding even though he doesn’t want to agree. “Me too.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

But Jensen still doesn’t know; and he wishes with all of himself that a solution would just suddenly appear; but it can’t be that easy. _Nothing ever is_. “Well …” Jensen whispers, leaning down to kiss Misha again, “right now, we are just going to be together, and we are going to enjoy this last night before we each go back home. We can do _that_ _much_ … we owe it to each other.”

Misha is nodding and pulling him in before Jensen even finishes speaking, breathing in the last of his words and biting them between his teeth. And as the pitch black of a too-early morning overtakes the room, they overtake one another between the sheets of the bed they’ve shared for so many years. Losing themselves in every cotton folds, finding each other’s seams and ripping them apart just to sew them closed again. They break one another and repair one another, fall to the floor and rebuild. They move as one until they have to move on, and as the sun rises on their final moments, they’ve settled into a deep sleep tangled up in each other’s arms.

Jensen dreams of Misha, as Misha’s time with him becomes just a dream—a dream that will haunt him each step he takes back to that airport. A dream that plagues his every thought as he flies home to Austin; _that_ _dream_ sours his stomach and sends him running to the tiny bathroom in the back of the plane, where he chokes on the bile of what he just left behind. His fingers shake as he gags into the bowl, turning up every word and poor choice and lost moment he could have shared with the man. He vomits out what’s left of himself, until all that remains is his heartbroken shell of a body. Jensen wipes the remnants of his relationship away with the back of his hand, crying—head spinning, wondering if any of the clouds surrounding him posses a silver lining, or if all the silver, all the gold, all the preciousness that was left in the world, melted away the moment he and Misha said _goodbye._ And as he sits on that dirty floor, he thinks that if he had known that “I love you” _wasn’t_ a promise, he might have held the words more closely.

***

“Hey, Dad?” JJ asks him, sounding too old for his tastes, and he arches an eyebrow over his coffee cup, watching the little girl sit down across the kitchen table.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

JJ looks down at her small fingers, picking at her nails just like Danneel does when she’s nervous. “Why don’t we talk to Uncle Mish anymore?”

His heart drops into his stomach, churning amidst the acid and caffeine, rotting away as his daughter’s concern grows heavy in the room. “Oh … _um_ …” he swallows hard, “he’s just been really busy, sweetie.”

“Too busy to call us?”

Jensen’s mouth hangs open, and he hates how much he wants to cry right now, but he holds off—because he’s cried enough in the last month and half since he and Misha left Vancouver, so he’s not going to do it now and scare his baby girl.

“I miss him. I miss Maison and West. Can we try to call them later?” JJ asks, her eyes hopeful but her fidgeting still gives away her stress.

He had forgotten how Arrow, Zepp and JJ would chime in from time to time when he and Misha were on the phone. The three of them would clamor over one another for a chance to say hi to their _favorite Uncle Mish;_ and in turn, Maison and West would join in as well, resulting in long, whole-family talks full of love and laughter; but since they parted ways beyond that border, those events have all but died, and JJ has obviously taken notice of that.

“Well … I don’t know, Jaybird. I … I don’t know if Uncle Mish is _with_ Maison and West right now. He could be busy trying to help people vote for a new president. It’s really important that he focuses on that right now.” And it’s true, Misha could be busy doing that. His recent Tweets have said as much, and Jensen did join that huge Zoom call with that guy two weeks ago, to promote voting registration while livestreaming an episode. Of course, Jensen had to be drunk to participate, and had Danneel to babysit him so he wouldn’t accidentally say something stupid; but thankfully, Misha was too focused on his political angles to give Jensen more than a few seconds of attention at a time. Those few seconds though—well they each fell like swift kicks to his gut; and when Misha got kicked off the feed, Jensen couldn’t hold out anymore—logging off the first chance he got. Danneel tried to talk him down, tried to remind him that none of this was about his and Misha’s relationship. She tried to tell him that he had to focus on the bigger picture; but all he could do was get blackout drunk that night in order to forget just how much he loved hearing Misha’s voice again.

“Can you text him and ask?” JJ chirps, more urgently now.

“Honey … I …” He tries to think of an excuse. He tries to think of a way to explain to her that her Daddy and her Uncle Mish aren’t really … _together_ anymore. She’s known that the two men’s relationship was different than the one he has with Jared, and she’s always treated it like a gift. Her and West and Maison, and the twins too—even though they were still too young to _truly_ understand it, all saw their fathers’ bond as beautiful blend that brought them more brothers and sisters. More fathers, more love and memories; and Jensen has been so grateful for the open-mindedness of youth. But now that things have changed, he doesn’t want to crush her youthful spirit. And even though he and Misha never _officially_ called an end to their relationship, every one of those kisses they shared last month felt _final_ , and every touch tattooed a _goodbye_ into their skin. They didn’t have to _say_ it was over, because they each already knew it to be true.

But he didn’t expect his children to know it too.

“Please, Daddy?”

And his heart quite literally can’t take it anymore. “JJ, _I can’t_. I’m sorry, but I can’t.” Jensen’s voice is raw and strangled with oppressive tears, and no matter how much he fights to keep them at bay—they’re too strategic, too well armed; and now they’re backed by their strongest ally _… his little girl’s happiness._

JJ’s eyes get wide as she watches him slowly crumble, and she’s climbing into his lap a moment later to wrap her tiny arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

Jensen sobs into her hair, hating that he’s lost so much control—that he’s so far gone now, his seven-year-old daughter is having to come to his rescue.

“It’s okay, Daddy” she says, surprisingly calm as she squeezes him tighter. “Do you miss him too?”

“Yeah, baby” he whispers, shaking as he curls around her small frame and giant heart. “I miss him a lot.”

***

“Are you ready for this?” Jensen texts, feeling his longing mix with _dread_ as his screen buffers the video.

Three little dots appear on his phone, and finally—Misha replies. “I want to be; but I’m really nervous to watch the final cut. I hope they didn’t ruin it.”

Jensen frowns at the message, taking a moment to think of what to say next. “Andrew told me it was still powerful.”

Misha response is quicker this time. “We’ll see.”

With a sigh, Jensen sets down his phone again. Ever since he broke down in front of JJ, he’s been actively trying to ease off the band-aid—taking small steps back towards _friendship_ with the man that has been so much more for so long. A text _here_ , a short phone call _there_. A _like_ on a Twitter post sometimes if it was all feeling like too much; because he knew that soon, they’d need to make more contact. With the three final episodes on deck to air, he’d need to put on his game-face and act like everything is fine … even though his insides are completely shattered.

The third to last episode starts to play, and Jensen watches their characters move around the screen—mind wandering off every few minutes, thinking about Misha, missing him, wanting him back, wondering how he’s watching the episode right now. Is he lying down? Is he sitting on his couch as his kids run around him? Or, is he off somewhere _secluded_ , private—like Jensen is now?

He had to hide away in his and Danneel’s bedroom in order to watch in peace. The twins were both throwing tantrums, and his wife—being the amazingly, wonderful woman she is, took them off Jensen’s hands so he could watch without disruption. Although, now that he’s actually here—lying in his bed, laptop open in front of him, and Misha’s face cast wide on the screen, Jensen thinks that he might really appreciate a disruption or two; but then—Billie is chasing Cas and Dean down the bunker’s hallway, and Jensen holds his breath as Dean holds his heart, fearing what’s coming next and praying to God that its even _half_ as good as it used to be.

Misha texts him. “Here we go.”

Jensen chokes down everything he wants to say and then texts back. “Fingers crossed.”

 _Castiel starts to cry_ —and so does Jensen, crossing his arms across his chest to try and still his pounding heart.

But then, Dean says “Don’t do this, Cas” only, he says it much later in the scene than Jensen did, and after that, Dean is practically silent. His eyes are too dry for how much Jensen was _actually_ crying during the entire take; and that’s when he realizes, they used all the early coverage from further back in the script … before Dean even _knew_ what Castiel was planning; before the angel even thought of summoning the Empty. They had spliced in _composure_ where Dean should’ve been a wreck; the erased his pain with out-of-context _confusion_ , and the complete bastardization of the moment dries all of Jensen’s tears immediately.

He picks up his phone again and calls Misha without thinking. “You seeing this shit?” he asks the second the call is connected, but Misha’s stifled cries greet his ear like daggers. “Hey, you okay?”

“Y-yeah” Misha sniffles and then falls quiet a beat as he gets himself together. “I … I just haven’t seen any of this footage in a while. _It got to me_.”

Jensen sighs, nodding against his phone—looking back at the screen just as Dean cries into his hands. He sobs, and he sobs, and then the image goes black and the credits roll. The “Me too” he had originally said _is_ in fact gone, leaving Castiel alone in his honesty and alone in death, and it’s absolutely infuriating to know that he and Misha will _always_ be alone in knowing the truth. “Yup. They cut it.”

“We knew they would” Misha whispers, still choked up even though the episode it over now.

After another moment, Jensen hears some shuffling, and then some tapping, and suddenly, Misha is chuckling, sounding further away now, yet—so much closer to the beautiful man Jensen has come to love.

“Wow … okay … _wow_.”

“What?” Jensen asks, chuckling too—overjoyed with the new lightness in the conversation.

“Twitter” Misha says simply.

“Yeah?”

“It’s fucking blowing up! _Destiel_ is trending.”

Jensen furrows his brow and then looks back at his laptop, clicking out of the video player to go to his Twitter page, and sure enough … there it is. “Destiel” leading the trending board. “Holy shit.”

“People are freaking out, Jensen. They’re losing their shit over this!”

Jensen is laughing now, free and finally fearless with how to talk to this man. “We knew they would though, right?”

“Yeah, but … I wasn’t expecting it to be like _this._ ”

Jensen types a series of words into Twitter’s search bar—first “Destiel” and then “Supernatural” and then “Castiel” and finally, “15x18”, and he spends the next hour reading posts out loud as Misha does the same. And then, with some doing—Misha sends him login information to a fake Tumblr account that he’s created, giving them the opportunity to deep-dive even further into the fandom’s madness. They send each other links to videos and share gifs and artwork that speedy, dedicated fans have somehow _already made_ ; and they even read various short stories and continuations of their final scene, both taken aback and amazed by the creativity that their followers possess. And after they’ve cried more and laughed harder, and felt more comfortable with one another than they had in weeks, they fall back into a rhythm that at least feels _somewhat_ close to normal.

“I miss you, Mish” Jensen whispers as the morning hours creep too close to sunrise, and his ability to hold back his heart, wanes thin.

There’s a pause, and it’s enough to stop the world spinning beneath him. “I miss you too” Misha says finally, and Jensen’s dizzying happiness whirls him right to sleep.

And he knows that nothing has really changed. They still can’t be together. They still can’t turn their lives upside down just to make this work; but at least they can still _talk_ , still make each other laugh and still acknowledge that the connection that exists between them is a special one, even if they _do_ have to limit how much they want to say.

***

“Biden won?” Danneel is shrieking. “Oh my god, Biden won!”

“What?” Jensen yelps, and then he’s leaping off the couch to go join his wife in jumping up and down. “He did? He fucking won?”

Danneel squeals again as she nods and shows Jensen her phone. NPR’s election map is up on the screen with “Biden Wins” typed out just above it.

“Oh my God! Oh thank the fucking Lord!”

“What are you guys doing?” JJ asks, having just run downstairs to see why her parents were losing their minds.

“We have a new president, sweetie!” Danneel laughs, rushing over to pick up their daughter and give her a dozen sloppy kisses on her cheek.

JJ gasps and squirms as she laughs too, probably not really understanding why this is making Mommy and Daddy so happy—but she’s cool with joining in the celebrations either way. So, she claps and she cheers along with them, which calls the twins in too, and soon, every member of the Ackles clan is running around and flailing their arms, yelling “Biden won!” at the top of their lungs.

“Oh my god, I have to call Misha!” Jensen says suddenly, thinking that if _he’s_ this happy, Misha has probably keeled over by now.

He pulls out his phone and then walks out to the deck, closing the door behind him in order to hear the man since Danneel and the kids are still cheering. Misha answers the phone. “Mish! Did you hear?” Jensen laughs, looking up at the sky—wondering if it somehow got bluer in the last few minutes.

But Misha is quiet, and it gives Jensen pause.

“Mish?”

Misha starts to cry, and then he starts to _sob_ , and then he starts to laugh through the sobs in an array of hiccups and chortles that sound like he’s on the brink of insanity. “I can’t believe it” he gasps, “I just … I never thought it would end!”

The sound of Misha’s voice makes Jensen settle down; so, he leans onto the deck rail and smiles into his phone. “I know, babe—” _Shit._ He clamps his eyes shut and bites his tongue, caught off guard by the slip up. _He can’t call Misha that anymore_ ; but thankfully, Misha doesn’t seem to notice.

“Trump was just so awful, you know?” he chokes, sniffling some more—and Jensen can hear birds tweeting in the background and the sound of rocks crunching underneath Misha’s feet.

“Yeah, I know … where are you right now?” Jensen asks, wanting to picture the man, wanting to etch him into the back of his eyelids so he can see him even though he’s not here.

“I’m—I’m taking a walk. I got the news and I just had to … I had to walk.”

Jensen nods, knowing that _Misha_ and _nature_ are one and the same. “I understand. I bet it’s a lot for you right now, _huh?_ I mean—after all the campaigning you did, and fundraising, this is as much a win for _you_ as it is for Biden.”

Misha laughs through another sob. “Yeah, I wouldn’t go _that far_ ; but it does feel like a lot of hard work finally paid off.”

“Fuck yeah it did! I’m so proud of you—” Jensen almost calls him “babe” again—his heart breaking a little because he _really_ wants to say it. _No_ … _actually_ , what he really wants to say is “I love you” and “I’ll see you soon so we can _really_ celebrate” but he can’t, and he doesn’t.

“Thank you” Misha laughs, cries finally curtailing to nothing more than a few strained coughs; and then, Jensen hears a _beep_ through the line, causing Misha to speak again. “Oh, I’m getting another call, Jen. I should take it.”

Jensen takes a deep breath, looking out onto the lake—blue water reflecting the blue sky that’s stretching out and covering blue eyes that are happily taking in all the blue states. He’s hundreds of miles away celebrating this moment, and the distance turns Jensen’s heart blue too, and there’s nothing celebratory about _that_. “Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah” Misha says softly. “We’ll talk later.” And the certainty in his voice sounds like a promise. Jensen smiles as the line disconnects, knowing that the man will be true to his word. He’s always been true. It’s one of the million things Jensen loves about him, and it’s one of the million reasons why this is all so hard.

***

They haven’t hung out at each other’s houses much since the pandemic started; however, trips to the park, or to each other’s yards, or out onto the lake to race the jet skis still occurred fairly regularly. But with the final episode airing tonight, Jensen and Jared decided to bend the rules and watch the finale together, _inside_ —tucked away in Jared’s den. Both Gen and Danneel opted out of watching with them so they could keep the kids busy and let the guys have their moment; but as Jensen sits here beside his best friend, their quiet conversations feels _too quiet_ , and he thinks that a little noise, a little rambunctiousness from his kids, might actually bring the levity he’s craving. But he knows that Jared needs the peace; so, Jensen just sips his drink and looks at the clock, counting down the minutes until the finale begins.

“Do you think this is harmless enough?” Jensen asks, handing Jared his phone to show him the post he’s drafted. He waits as the guy watches the short video about Dean’s boots, and then scans over the two pictures that bookend it.

“Yeah. I think so” he says, handing Jensen his phone back before turning to look at his own. Jared had already been tapped to be the social media leader throughout the showing, and Misha said ‘he’d chime in too, but in a less formal capacity; leaving Jensen to do as he pleases—whether that’s contribute to the chaos or not.

Jensen nods, nipping at the inside of his cheeks as he publishes the post to Instagram. The likes and comments immediately start flooding in, but he just closes it out and puts his phone face down on the couch beside him. “Alright—well, I’m done for the day” he laughs, but it’s hollow and Jared knows it.

“Hey, it’ll _be_ however it’ll be … but we should be proud of it no matter what. We’ve come a long way to get here.”

“I know” Jensen sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. I know—and, I _am_ proud. I’m proud of the show, and I’m _really_ proud of _you,_ man. You made it all worth it.”

Jared smiles at him and then rolls his eyes, eventually fanning himself and fluttering his eyelashes, squirming in his seat like an excited little kid. “Oh, Jensen! _Stop!_ You’re makin’ me blush!” He giggles obnoxiously, so Jensen punches him in the arm. “Ow!” Jared laughs, rubbing at the sore spot.

“Yeah well, there’s more where that came from, _bitch_.”

Jared grins, taking a deep breath—clearly relieved that _some things never change_. He twists around and punches Jensen back. “ _Jerk_.”

For as bad as it is—a few moments still wriggle in a squeeze out some genuine tears: _Dean’s dying speech, Sam crying while holding his brother’s lifeless body;_ and of course … _the song_. Well, the first version anyway. _The original._ Why the hell they played a second version right after it, Jensen has no idea; but what hit him the hardest, _and for all the wrong reasons_ , is the glaring-absence of one scene in particular … and it has him walking out into the hallway and calling Misha as soon as he realizes it’s missing.

“I know” Misha says as he picks up the phone. “I’m watching with the kids, so I’m trying to not get too upset about it.”

“Can _I_ be upset about it?” Jensen hisses, staying as quiet as he can since _Jared’s_ kids are in the room right down the hall.

“By all means” Misha says hoarsely.

Jensen sighs as he paces back and forth, looking across all of the photos that are hanging on the wall. The kids’ school pictures flaunting all those undeniable _Padalecki-genes_ , stills from reunions and birthdays and Christmases with extended family, and finally—some pictures from set; and Jensen finds himself staring at _one_ for quite a while. It’s of the three of them _,_ arms around each other’s shoulders, Jared is mid laugh, Jensen is posing, and Misha’s gummy grin is glowing up at him through the glass. “I can’t believe they cut your last scene” Jensen breathes, lifting a finger to trace the outline of Misha’s face.

“I can’t believe I actually thought they’d leave it in” Misha says bitterly.

“Hey, Jensen … it’s almost over” Jared calls out, and Jensen curses at himself. This is _Jared’s_ moment too, and even though _he’s_ upset about … well, _about everything,_ that doesn’t mean he gets to fuck this up for his best friend. “I’ll call you back in a few minutes, Mish” he says, hanging up the phone right after so he can rush back into the den.

He looks at the screen just in time to see Dean looking out over the bridge, and then he smiles, turning around after a moment because he senses his baby brother’s presence. They hug, credits roll—and without much fanfare— _Supernatural_ , the show they’ve grown up with, the series that has brought them more family, more love, more memories than they ever thought possible, _the little show that could_ … is over.

Jensen let’s out a breath, turning once more to Jared, only to find the man standing stalk still with tears streaming down his face. “C’mere” Jensen says softly, pulling his brother in and letting him cry it out on his shoulder. “I know. I know” he whispers, holding the back of Jared’s head as he starts to well-up too. “I’m proud of us” he whispers, squeezing Jared tighter—and, _it’s still true._

_He is proud._

No matter what, no matter the frustration and heartache that came about because of it. No matter the long list of things he’d go back and change if he could, he’s still truly grateful for the experience; and he knows that he’ll never have another one like it again. It was too unique, too perfect of a storm, to loud and crazy and mesmerizing to ever duplicate again. And even though he’s thought about ways to pay homage to it down the line, Jensen knows that _for now_ —he needs to let it rest.

He needs to stay right here with his found-brother, his best friend, and just appreciate the ride they took side by side.

“I love you, man” Jensen says, kissing the side of Jared’s head.

Jared nods against him, gripping Jensen’s shirt like he’s afraid of slipping away, but Jensen just holds him tighter, showing him that _he would never let that happen_. “I love you too” Jared says finally, through tears and heartbreak, and grief for good times, gone by. “I love you, brother.”

***

He was watching “The Sound of Metal” when Misha texted him, and Jensen was actually a little frustrated to have to pause it. He was also frustrated that Darius’s film was _so damn_ _good_. The talented man had sent out the preview to a bunch of friends and acquaintances, probably to create even more buzz about its upcoming release; but Jensen was surprised to find that _he_ was on that email list. Darius has to know about his and Misha’s non-breakup breakup by now, so why was he sending Jensen anything? Then again, maybe Darius wasn’t behind the promotion at all. Jensen _is_ about to be in an Amazon Prime series too, so maybe it was someone from the network pushing out promotions to pique more interest. He didn’t recognize the email the video link was sent from, even though Darius’s name was at the bottom of it; but he knows that Misha’s name gets signed to the bottom of the GISH emails, even though he’s rarely the one who writes them—so, the movie was probably distributed by someone else. Jensen _did_ recognize a few other actors’ email address that he’s pretty sure, Darius had never met before. Then again, _maybe he has_. The guy is certainly _worldly_ enough. Maybe he just knows _everyone_ in Hollywood and is great friends with all of them, so he’s sending out his genius movie like an early Christmas gift.

_That fucker._

Jensen had plans to watch the stupid thing anyway—because whenever it came to _Darius_ , he was _always_ interested. Misha had often talked about their childhood together, as well as their history and shared experiences; and he _had_ explained to Jensen that— _yes_ , he and Darius had been known to fool around over the years, but neither of them ever held _romantic_ feelings for one another. That didn’t stop Jensen from feeling supremely threatened whenever the guy would fly in to visit Misha though. Darius is older, wiser, more educated and … _how the fuck did he get so ripped?_ And as if all of those things weren’t bad enough, he is also a super nice guy that Jensen can’t even really hate. Plus, Darius has something that he could _never_ have … and that is a tightly woven history with Misha Collins. Darius grew up with him, seen him through his worst and pushed him to do his best, and whenever the two spent time together, Jensen could tell how eased Misha was by Darius’s company.

And now that they’re … _separated,_ Jensen feels even more threatened with every Tweet Misha posts where Darius is tagged; so, more than anything, he wanted to hate that stupid, nice, ripped guy’s stupid-good movie, because there needed to be _something_ , just _one damn thing_ that didn’t make him _better_ than Jensen. But of course … the movie is good, and Misha loves it, and Darius obviously _loves_ that Misha loves it … which leaves Jensen on the outside of everything, feeling no love at all.

“Did you see all this Spanish dubber stuff?”

Jensen reads and re-reads Misha’s text a few times, wondering if the man sent it to him by mistake.

_Probably meant to send it to Darius._

But instead of texting him to make sure, Jensen calls Misha instead—because _texting_ while bitter and confused and also, while being extremely jealous of your ex-boyfriend’s best friend is just too much for his tired little mind to handle. “Spanish dubber?” he asks right when Misha answers the call.

“Yeah” Misha says quickly, and Jensen can hear him furiously tapping on a keyboard. “Apparently, 15x18 just aired in South America, and the Spanish dubbing has Dean saying ‘I love you’ back to Castiel.”

Jensen sits up straighter in his desk chair, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Wait, _what?_ How?”

Misha is quiet a moment— _more tapping—_ and then he hums. “ _Hm?_ Oh, no clue. That’s what I’m trying to figure out, but people are going nuts.”

“Did …” Jensen’s eyes flit back and forth as he thinks, “did they get an original script or something?”

“That’s what I was thinking, but the timing is off. You—well … _Dean_ said it back _after_ Cas was already dead, but the dubbed video shows Dean saying ‘I love you’ back immediately after Castiel says it to him.”

“Wait, there’s video?”

Misha chuckles. “ _Um_ , yeah. People wouldn’t be freaking out so much if it was all speculation.”

Jensen shrugs to himself. _Guess that’s true._ “Send it to me” he says a moment later; and soon, he’s closing out of Darius’s movie in order to open up the email Misha had just sent his way. In it, there’s a link—and when Jensen clicks on it, he’s brought to someone’s Tumblr page where a fifteen second clip is loaded. He presses play and watches the familiarly cut-up scene; but this time, instead of “Don’t do this, Cas” … Dean says, “Y yo a ti, Cas” and from the little Spanish he remembers, he understands it the way the rest of the world is understanding it. _Dean loves Castiel back._ “Wow” he mutters as soon as the clip is done.

“No kidding” Misha responds, still _clicking_ like a mad man—clearly absorbed in the mayhem of the situation.

“Has the network said anything about it?” Jensen asks a moment later, trying to think of ways to keep Misha on the phone—keep him talking. It’s been a few days since the finale aired and any conversation they’ve tried to have since was always cut short in one way or another.

“Not that I’ve heard.”

“You think they will?”

“Probably not. If anything—they’ll reach out to _us_ and warn us not to fuel the fire.”

“I doubt it’ll get to that point” Jensen says, leaning back in his seat and wrapping himself in the sound of the man’s breathing. “It was probably just a mistake, so it’ll blow over soon enough _.”_

***

Representatives from the CW contacted them both as soon as the hashtag started blowing up. Jensen had been checking Twitter every so often ever since Misha had told him about the dub; so, he watched as fans went from excited, to skeptical, to certain, to _enraged_ … and soon _#theysilencedthem_ was everywhere. Art and gifs, and edited videos of Dean and Cas were spreading like wildfire, taking down everything in their path—a virtual civil rights movement for the LGBTQ.

“Don’t engage. Don’t comment. The dubbing was a mistake and _silence_ is the best solution.”

Jensen wondered if the network knew how horrifyingly ironic their orders were, but it didn’t necessarily bother him to comply because, he has been pretty silent ever since the finale aired. He couldn’t find it within himself to comment or post once the series wrapped, because he couldn’t bring himself to lie to the fans with a smile. He stayed off of social media as much as possible, only making exceptions here and there for particularly thoughtful posts about 15x18, or to comment on other things that were wholly unrelated to the show and its characters.

Misha, however … was having a harder time with all of it, and as Jensen waited for the man to join his video chat, he’d hope he’d find him in some semblance of composure. The chat connects, and soon—those blue eyes are flashing across his computer, looking exhausted and crushed like Jensen was worried they would.

“Hey, Mish” he says softly, clenching his fists beneath the desk to keep himself from reaching out and touching the mere-image of his face.

“Hi” Misha replies, but his gaze keeps moving elsewhere across the screen.

“How’re ya holding up?”

The man frowns. “Not great, frankly.”

Jensen nods. “It’s getting pretty crazy, _huh?_ ”

“Yeah. Just a bit.”

Jensen nods again, feeling awkward and wishing he knew what else to say. “It’ll settle down. People are just upset right now, but they’ll calm down.”

“But _why_ are they upset?” Misha spits, looking directly at him now through the camera. “I’m sorry, but Castiel’s confession was supposed to be a _victory._ It was supposed to be a triumph for our community!”

Jensen knits his eyebrows together, suddenly realizing _which_ community the man is talking about … and it surprises him to hear Misha not only take ownership for _himself_ , but also for Jensen. The way they’ve had to live, to hide, to love in secret all these years have made him feel like the only community he could claim, existed between _them_ and their small circle of friends and family that knew about their relationship. So, the larger consequence of that was never being able to label himself as what his truly is— _a bisexual man._

Misha continues, obviously not noticing Jensen’s surprise. “I know that some people saw it as ‘burying your gays’, but Cas’s confession and ultimate _death_ was about _love_. That’s _all_ it was about; but now this … this fucking _dub_ made both Cas’s and Dean’s death into something completely different and ugly, and I … _I fucking hate it!_ ”

Again, Jensen wishes he knew what to say—but instead, he can only sit there and stare at the screen while his tongue lays lifeless in his mouth.

“I’m gonna post something” Misha finally spits, looking back to other parts of the screen with a new kind of fervor.

Jensen swallows hard. “ _Mish_ , the network said—”

“Fuck the network! I can’t let this spiral any _more_ out of control. I don’t know how that dub happened, and I don’t know why everything is getting taken so out of context, but if I can set some things straight, I will.”

A laugh slips out in spite of himself, and Misha’s eyes dart back to the camera to glare at him. Jensen cowers in his seat. “Sorry … just, poor choice of words.”

“Seriously, Jensen?” Misha hisses.

“I’m sorry! _Okay?_ I know how much this all means to you—”

“It doesn’t mean anything to _you?_ ”

Jensen feels the man’s accusation like a punch in the face. “I didn’t say that! You know how important that scene is to me.”

“Just not important enough to care that people are dragging it through the mud?” Misha snips bitterly, and his rare, but vicious meanness is starting to rear its ugly head.

Jensen sighs, knowing that the very few times he’s seen Misha lose his temper like this, there was nothing he could except wait it out; but, now that they’re not really together anymore, _waiting_ doesn’t seem like an option. “I don’t see it as being _dragged through the mud,_ man. I see people feeling like they were cheated out of something real. And yeah, the dubbing got the timing wrong, but you and I _both_ know—there _was_ more to that scene.”

The man’s nostrils flare, and his eyes flash red with his screen’s reflection. “Yes, but they’re acting like this was some conspiracy against the queer community! They think there was a completely different script at one point, and there just _wasn’t!_ It was edited down, not _swapped_ for something else.”

“You’re splitting hairs, Mish.”

“They’re _my_ hairs to split! I gave my everything to that dialogue. This is _my_ character, Jensen! And it’s yours too, so you should be just as upset as I am; and frankly … it’s pretty fucking hurtful that you’re not. So— _thanks_ , I’m gonna go fight this one alone. _So_ _glad_ you called to make this all worse.”

“ _Misha_ ” Jensen croaks, desperately leaning into the screen as if he can get in the man’s face. “You know I’m not trying to piss off! I just don’t think—” and that’s when he notices Misha’s hand … his ring finger in particular. There’s only his wedding band wrapped around it—the ring that _Jensen_ gave him is nowhere to be seen. And even though he knows— _he knows_ that there have been a million times Misha has only worn _one_ ring, or no rings at all … the absence of that gifted-band, that silent vow that was only meant for the two of them, that promise of _forever_ , feels like the final page in their story has come to a close.

“ _Goodbye, Jensen_.”

“Mish! Hold on a second!”

“ _No_. You’ve shared your thoughts, now I’m going to go share mine.”

“Misha, _wait_ —” but Misha shuts down the chat, and Jensen’s screen goes black, and his heart stutters and blackens with it.

***

The video that Misha posts isn’t as bad as he thought it would be, but when Danneel watches it, she’s biting her lip.

“I don’t think that’s gonna go over well” she says, setting down her phone to look Jensen in the eye. “The network _really_ didn’t say how that dub got approved?”

Ruefully, Jensen shakes his head. “Not a word. Other than telling Misha and I not to engage, they’ve been silent about the whole fucking thing.”

She lets out a slow whistle. “ _Sheesh_ , no wonder Misha felt obligated to take a stand. I just wish he hadn’t sounded so snarky in that post … kinda defeats the purpose. And with as pissed off as people are, they’re gonna eat him alive. Pedowitz or _someone_ should’ve stepped in and made a statement instead.”

“They were probably just hoping it’d all go away” Jensen grumbles, crushing a crumb that’s still on the table from the twins’ lunch.

Danneel reaches out to hold his hand. “How are _you_ holdin’ up, babe?”

Jensen shrugs, because—he really doesn’t know. He and Misha were finally in a decent place. They were finally finding some normalcy again. And _yes_ , it killed him every time he hung up the phone without an “I love you” at the end, and he hated how silences hung between their words now, because usually—those spaces would be filled with shameless flirting and sweet sentiments; but at least they could _talk_ and _laugh_ and find some time for each other again.

_If it wasn’t for that fucking dub …_

His wife stands up, walking around the corner of the dining table so she can sit in his lap—and with her hands clasped around Jensen’s neck, she presses her forehead to his, finally placing one, soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “I wish I could fix all this for you.”

Jensen closes his eyes and then ties his arms around Danneel’s waist, feeling so grateful that he still has her, and he still has _this._ “I’m okay, babe.”

But she shakes her head. “ _I’m serious._ I don’t like seeing you heartbroken; and, sometimes … sometimes, I still feel weird for wanting this for you; but then I see how happy you are with him in your life, and how much you’re hurting now that he’s pushing you away, and well— _it couldn’t be clearer._ _You need him_. I love you with all my heart, and I know how much you love me and our family, so … why wouldn’t I want you to have even _more_ love in your life?”

Jensen let’s out a shaky breath. “But wanting it and _having_ it are two different things.”

Danneel strokes the back of his neck with her thumb. “I know … but… I have to believe that you two will work this out somehow. There is still obviously so much love there. He wouldn’t get this angry at you if he didn’t value you so much. There just _has to be a way_ to make it work.”

His eyes finally open so he can look at Danneel’s beautiful face. Honey irises and pink lips, auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders. She’s enough for him, _she’s always been enough_ … but his relationship with Misha was never about _the_ _need for more,_ or filling some gap in his heart. It existed because _they_ existed, just like wind exists to move over the earth; but sometimes— _wind changes direction_. Sometimes it spins wildly out of control. Sometimes … it just _stops_ _altogether_ , leaving the earth still, cold and unmoved.

_Their wind has stopped._

When it came down to it, that wind wasn’t enough to keep them going, and it might have blown them too far now to ever get back to where they once were.

***

He plays it again—the raw footage of the last scene he and Misha shot together. He has been watching it over and over for the last two hours. His phone in one hand, an endless glass of whiskey in the other, and as more and more notifications pop up on his screen— _Misha_ replying to more and more comments on his regretful video, more and more apologies, and more and more of the man’s attempts to listen and understand the feelings of _thousands_ … Jensen considers posting _his video_ of the scene just to watch the world burn.

In his drunken haze, he wants to undermine _everything_. He wants to shove a middle finger in the face of the network, in the face of that shitshow they called a finale, and even—a little bit in _Misha’s face_ for being such a dick to him earlier. He wants to show the world the moment where _Dean_ is true to himself too.

_Why does Cas get to be the only one who is freed by his own confession?_

_Why can’t Dean finally do the same?_

_Hasn’t he suffered enough?_

Jensen watches the video one more time, finally convincing himself to do it. _Just fucking do it!_ _Who fucking cares_? So what if he gets sued? So what if the network tries to fuck him up the ass with their privacy agreements and ownership laws? He _likes_ getting fucked up the ass… _it’s pretty fuckin’ fun._

His fingers clumsily move around the tiny screen, and his blurred vision makes finding the Instagram app fairly difficult. _He has too many apps on his phone_ —mostly games and puzzles that he downloaded for the kids. Too many bright fucking colors. Too many things that look the same. He grumbles, swigging back even more whiskey—loving the way it warms his stomach and burns his throat.

He blinks at his phone again and promptly forgets what he was doing.

It had something to do with _Misha_ … he’s pretty sure. Then again, most of what he does these days has something to do with that guy.

_He thinks about Misha._

_He dreams about Misha._

_He talks to his wife about Misha._

And then … he talks to Misha about _anything other_ than _how much_ he _thinks_ and _dreams_ and _talks_ about Misha _._

_Fuck … he really misses Misha._

Sitting up, he finally focuses in on his phone once more, and then on a big green app at the bottom of the screen. He taps on it and immediately hones in on Misha’s name, so he taps on that too, thinking that it’s the closest he can get to actually _touching_ him.

“Hello?” Misha’s voice is coming out of his phone like magic, and a picture of him appears on the screen, causing Jensen to smile down at that wonderful little rectangle, glad that _smart phones are so smart._

“ _Ha—Misha_ ” he sighs, thinking that this must be a video, or a voice recording. _Make an old message?_ He waits, wondering if the voicemail says anything else.

“Jensen?”

“Fuck, I love how he says my name” Jensen mutters to himself, quickly looking around the small screen for a the “replay” button.

“Jensen—why did you call me?” Misha asks, sounding a bit annoyed.

 _Call? Oh—oh shit._ “Hey-hi-ha-hi there, Mish!” Jensen says, trying to sound sober and failing miserably.

“Are you drunk?”

Jensen feels his entire head heat up, so he shakes it. “ _Uh uh_ , nope. Not … not drunk.”

Misha huffs a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah— _okay_. It’s been a while since you’ve drunk-dialed me. What’s wrong?”

“No-nothing’s wrong. Just _mm_ … just callin’ ya. Wanted to say hi.” Jensen twists around in his office chair, making himself dizzy, as well as a little nauseous, so he stops.

“Okay …” Misha sighs, “well, I’m really in no mood to talk right now, Jensen. So, I’m gonna go.”

“No, no, no, no! What’s wrong?” Jensen asks in a panic, terrified that the man might hang up.

“ _You know_ what’s wrong, and I’m not going to get into it again with you when you’re drunk.”

“ _Why not?_ ” Jensen whines.

Misha grumbles loudly into the phone. “ _Because_ … you turn into a bratty child when you’re drunk.”

“Do not!”

“You told me to pick a leg, Jensen!”

Jensen begins to chuckle to himself, thinking back to that convention in Rome. He _did_ probably have a bit too much apple juice before going on stage that day. He doesn’t _normally_ flash his underwear in front of hundreds of people. “ _Hmhm … I like bears_.”

“ _Case in point,_ Jensen.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Jensen pouts as he stares across his office, eventually looking at the couch and remembering when Misha gave him and Danneel some of the best sex of their lives; and it makes him start to chuckle again.

“Oh my God, _what now?_ ” Misha asks, obviously frustrated but he chuckles too in spite of himself.

“Hey—remember … remember when you told Dani and me how to like … _fuck each other?_ We were on that video call thingy here in my office and—”

“Yes, I remember” Misha sighs.

“That was really fun” Jensen says, and … he’s suddenly very sad. “We always had a lot of fun, right?”

“We did” Misha replies, and now he’s sounding sad too.

“Why can’t we have fun anymore?” Jensen asks, looking down at the rug—thinking that _maybe he should just lay on it_. He grunts, slipping off the chair and onto the floor, accidentally dropping his phone along the way. “Oh shit—Mish! You there?” He grabs at the cell and fumbles his fingers across its screen, and the glass lights up, still showcasing Misha’s smiling face.

“Yes. What are you doing?”

“Laying down” Jensen grunts, closing his eyes as he sprawls out across the carpet.

“Are you in your office?”

Jensen opens his eyes again. “How did you know? Can you … can you see me? Is this a video call thingy?” He looks back to the screen, but the picture of Misha isn’t moving.

“No, _Jesus_ … how much did you drink?”

“A bottle or two” Jensen yawns. “Do you want to come over and drink with me?” he asks a second later, because somehow—the feeling of the soft rug beneath him is reminiscent of the cushy armchair at the condo, and for a moment, he forgets that that’s not where he is.

“I … I wish I could, Jensen.”

“Come over, babe! I miss you … I miss you so much. I don’t like when you’re not here, ‘cause it makes me sad and, I love you ... like _I really love you a lot._ ”

Misha’s quiet now, and Jensen starts to worry.

“Mish?”

“Yeah … I’m here.”

Jensen feels that hollow spot in his chest get bigger, and it starts to ache so much that he can’t help but get choked up. “I wish you were _here._ Why can’t you be here with me? W-why can’t we be together right now?”

“ _Jensen_ …”

“I don’t think the world is right when we’re not together.”

Misha sighs, and Jensen cuddles up to the sound. “ _Nothing_ is right with the world at the moment.”

“ _We were_ ” Jensen mumbles quickly. “We were right.” He closes his eyes again and hugs the phone to his head, coiling up into a ball on the rug, overcome with too many thoughts and feelings in his already swimming-brain.

He takes a long moment, but Misha finally speaks again. “You should go to bed, Jensen” he says, sounding just as overwhelmed, but Jensen isn’t ready to let go yet.

“We shoulda tried harder” he says, feeling the whiskey sink his body into the ground limb by limb. “We didn’t try hard enough, Misha. Why didn’t we try har—” His mind slips below the waterline, where drunken dreams meet drunken feelings, so he doesn’t hear Misha calling out his name from the other end of that phone, and he certainly doesn’t hear the man whisper “I’m sorry.”

***

Three days have passed since he woke up on the floor of his office, unsure of how he got down there—but the empty bottle of Angel’s Envy gave him a pretty good idea. And, he vaguely remembers talking to Misha, but he has no idea what he said to him, nor how their conversation ended.

_Did he piss him off even more?_

_Did Misha finally decide that he wasn’t worth the trouble?_

_Should he call the guy and ask him?_

_Should he apologize?_

Jensen looks at his phone for the millionth time—finger hovering over the call button, but once again, he chickens out.

If the conversation had gone well, Jensen is pretty sure Misha would have reached out to him by now; but he hasn’t, so he slips his phone back into his pocket and decides to take Baby out for a drive to clear his head.

Ever since he got her shipped over from Vancouver, he’s been hesitant to take her out on the road. Not only is he extra protective of her now that he doesn’t have a whole crew of set-mechanics and assistants to help keep her clean and shiny, but he’s also not sure if he’s ready to be _quite_ that recognizable. The couple of time he and Danneel have gone for coffee or just a ride around town, people definitely noticed. _So, him_ … _driving the Impala_ … so soon after the finale? That might get some media attention, and that’s the last thing he needs right now; but just because _he’s_ camera shy, doesn’t mean he should keep _her_ cooped up, so he decides to take Baby off the beaten path, knowing that they’ll both be able to avoid the public eye that way. Plus, there are some friends who work just _a ways off that path_ that he hasn’t seen in some time. He texts his one-time-groomsman and old friend, Kevin to see if he’ll be at the shop later today. Kevin texts back a few minutes later, saying that he’s there now and would love to see him.

So, after he tells Danneel where he’s off to, Jensen kisses each of the kids on their heads and heads out to the garage, feeling like he’s getting a warm hug from a long-lost friend the moment he sits behind Baby’s wheel.

“Hey, girl” he whispers, rubbing her leather and adjusting her mirrors. “You ready for this?”

Her engine roars to life and his excitement roars with it, ready and willing to put some pedal to the medal and get the hell outta Dodge… or, _Austin_ as it were.

He turns the radio up as soon as he’s out of his neighborhood, singing along to every song that comes on, windows down with his arm hanging out—letting the breeze carry his worries away.

 _This is just what he needed_.

A little break from the cycle _…_ a cycle that consisted of all his normal daily-things, _plus missing Misha_ ; but driving down the road, hearing the familiar sound of that engine, smelling her exhaust along with the fresh, November air? Jensen finally feels like he can breathe again; and as he makes his way west of Austin, taking every back road he can find— he remembers that “Winchester Dr.” is one of those roads, so he stops to take a selfie in front the street-sign because, _how can he not?_

He smiles as he looks at the picture, zooming in to make sure he doesn’t have any boogers in his nose or Thanksgiving Day leftovers in his teeth, because he’s feeling so good right now, he might actually post this later; but as he zooms, he sees his necklace peeking out from his t-shirt. He knows that when he put it on this morning, he did so because he was missing Misha… but now, it’s a violent reminder that Misha is no longer in the picture. He groans, looking up from his phone and down the long stretch of Winchester Drive—a gray ribbon wrapping around the soft curve of the earth; and for a moment, he wonders if maybe, _just maybe_ , Misha is wearing _his_ necklace too … the one that Jensen got specially made for him—with stones, all unique, that he selected himself to represent the unique and precious man that _was_ his boyfriend.

Jensen groans even louder now, trying to shake the thought from his head. It was dumb, and now—his brightened mood darkens a bit; so, he puts it all away and gets back into his car to carry on, turning down the radio and driving the rest of the distance to Kevin’s shop with nothing but the wind through the windows to occupy his mind.

His friend’s little store is filled with jewelry and trinkets, and everything shines under the florescent lights like ripples in water. Jensen moves from one display to the next, dragging his eyes like green nets over the stones and beads—ready to catch whatever falls in.

“Lookin’ for somethin’ in particular?” Kevin asks, and Jensen turns to him and attempts to smile through his mask.

“Hey, man! How ya doin’?” He hugs his friend, only thinking better of it after the fact. “Sorry. Keep forgetting about this Covid shit.”

Kevin waves him off and then puts his hands in his hips, looking around his shop a moment to make sure no one else needs help; but there’s only one other person in the store and she’s already at the checkout counter with Hilary, Kevin’s wife.

Hilary catches Jensen’s eye and he waves at her.

“Really though, man … what brings ya out here? Looking for a gift for Dani?”

Jensen laughs. “ _Always_. Gotta keep her happy somehow. Lord knows why she puts up with me.”

Kevin nods, straight faced and serious. “I know. We were all shocked when she agreed to marry you.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and gives Kevin a shove.

He stumbles back a step and finally breaks his act, eventually gesturing for Jensen to come follow him to the back of the store. One there, he holds up a pair of earrings, green and gold and _exactly_ Danneel’s style. “I actually thought of her when we got these” Kevin says, handing them to Jensen so he can take a closer look.

“Oh, they’re perfect! I mean, I was kinda jokin’ earlier, but I think she’d divorce me if I _didn’t_ get these for her.”

“Hey, I’m good at my job. What can I say?” Kevin chuckles, looking proud that he so easily made a sale.

“ _Yeah_ you are. Thanks, man.”

“My pleasure” Kevin says, “So tell me. How’s it been—now that the show is over?”

Jensen shrugs, still turning the earrings over in his hands. “It’s an adjustment to say the least.”

“Yeah, I bet. How’s Jared handling it?”

“Like a baby who lost his pacifier” Jensen jokes, but he knows that’s a more apt comparison for _him_ as of late.

Kevin raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure that ain’t you?”

 _Fuck, they’ve known each other too long_. “Fuck off, man” Jensen laughs, nudging Kevin with his elbow. “What ‘bout you? Shop doin’ okay?”

Kevin’s eyebrows drop again, and his eyes drop to the ground. “It’s been rough. Not gonna lie. This whole pandemic has just murdered our foot traffic.”

Jensen looks him over, frowning at the sight of his friend’s worry. “Shit, I’m sorry man.”

Kevin nods. “Yeah. Not like we’re the only ones though. Small business are dying left and right. We’re just trying to keep our heads above water until this thing’s over.”

“What can I do?” Jensen asks, really feeling like he should do something _more_ than only get a forty-dollar pair of earrings.

“Buy a necklace to match those” Kevin laughs, and Jensen immediately starts looking around the displays beside them. Kevin laughs even harder. “Jeez, I was kidding.”

“You could post our shop link to your social media” Hilary says, having just walked up after making that sale. “ _It is_ National Small Business Day after all.”

“Done!” Jensen says, feeling like that might do a lot more good than just a few purchases. _It’s also totally something Misha would do_. He closes his eyes and tries to bury the thought.

“No, no— _gah_ , sweetie. We’re not gonna exploit the guy like that!” Kevin says to his wife, cheeks burning up with the mere _thought_ of asking for help.

Jensen smiles. Kevin has always been too modest for his own good, but _Hilary_ on the other hand … she’s fierce. “No, please – _exploit away!_ If I can actually do something useful with my oddly-loyal following, I’ll do it. Plus, the holidays are coming up, and people need gift ideas… _me included._ ” He starts looking at a row of beaded bracelets, knowing that JJ would love the pink and purple ones.

“Seriously, man—it’s not necessary.”

Hilary swats her husband in the stomach. “Zip it, Kev. It _is_ necessary and you know it.” She then turns to Jensen and smiles with her eyes. “Thank you, Jensen. We would really appreciate you giving us a shout out.”

“Not a problem at all. It’s really my pleasure.” He picks up the bracelet, as well as some flowery hair clips for Arrow, and a couple of charms for Zepp—one of which is shaped like pterodactyl. _It’s perfect_ , and he makes a mental note to come back before Christmas to get some things for Gen, and for his mom and sister; but he’ll bring Dani with him since she’s so much better at gift-giving than he is. Plus, it’ll give him the chance to hang out with Kevin and Hilary some more.

It wasn’t until he got here and _saw_ them that he realized how much he missed just going out and _visiting people._ He’s been so preoccupied with the show, with the pandemic … with Misha, that he’s let a lot of his other relationships fall off his radar, and as he sits and catches up with his old friends, he feels really guilty about that.

But he won’t let it happen again.

_He can do better._

Just because he’s a mess, doesn’t mean he can’t try and do better.

He made the post while still sitting in the parking lot—the picture he took earlier plus a quick pic of the shop, and the one he took of Kevin and Hilary to send to Danneel. Once it was posted, Jensen sat and watched as people liked and commented on it—waiting and watching, and _hoping_ for one like and comment in particular.

He waited … and waited.

The sun sunk lower in the sky, and Jensen waited some more, sighing and turning over Baby’s engine when he finally gave up hope.

The radio clicks on, and Ed Sheeran’s voice comes belting through the speakers.

> “ _But baby now…_  
>  Take me into your loving arms.  
>  Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars—”

Jensen clicks off the radio—chest heaving, feeling like all the oxygen has just been sucked out of the car.

 _He wants to go back_.

Or, he wants to be able to look around himself and _not_ see Misha in everything; but he’s stuck in the wretched _in-between_ , where the memories rain down on him everywhere he goes and _shelter_ is nowhere to be found. Those memories are soaking him through and chilling him to the bone.

He just needs a break.

He needs a way to escape the reminders of everything he’s lost.

***

Danneel found the earrings the very next morning. _Given_ , Jensen didn’t really hide them that well since his mind was still preoccupied with sadness, but they _were_ tucked away in his bedside table.

Danneel swears she didn’t _try_ to find them, _they found her._

Jensen rolls his eyes, knowing that she saw him bring in the Squash Blossom bag last night, so she was obviously snooping; but he doesn’t really mind. He just loves seeing her so happy.

His wife prances around the kitchen eating a leftover turkey leg, still in her pajamas, hair up in a messy bun so she can show off her newest gift.

“They look great on you, baby” he laughs, and Danneel flips her head from side to side, posing dramatically with each toss.

“Oh, _these old things?_ ” she giggles, batting her eyelashes at him and he can’t help but swoon.

_She is too fucking adorable._

His phone lights up on the kitchen counter, quickly beeping with a notification, and since she was closer to it, Danneel looks at the screen. “ _It’s_ _Misha_ ” she breathes, looking surprised and excited at the same time, but Jensen is only the former.

The mindless car show he was watching plays on behind him as he gets up to go look at his phone. Danneel slides it over as he sits down on one of the barstools.

The text is nothing more than an address, and Jensen scrunches up his face at it, turning his cell around to show Danneel.

The woman shrugs at him. “ _I_ don’t know” she says, pointing frantically back at the screen with her half-eaten turkey leg. “Don’t ask _me_ , _ask him!_ ”

Jensen takes a deep breath, nodding as he begins to type. Feeling like he just stepped out onto a tightrope that’s about to be lit on fire. “What?” he says, and then hits _send._

“Oh my God, you’re such a wordsmith, Ackles” Danneel groans.

Jensen starts to gripe at her, but then the dots appear on his phone to indicate that Misha is typing.

Both he and Danneel hold their breath.

But Misha just sends the address _again_.

“ _Wha—_ ” Jensen throws out his arms, “what the fuck is he doing?” he asks his wife, but she looks like she’s about to have a conniption.

“Oh my fucking God, Jensen! Stop asking me and _ASK HIM!_ ”

Jensen growls—frustrated and anxious. He quickly hits the call button before he loses his nerve.

The phone rings twice and then Misha answers it. “Have you left yet?”

Jensen’s eyes widen as he looks back at his wife.

“What? What’s he saying?” she whispers, wriggling around him like an epileptic worm.

“ _Left …?_ ” he drawls, and Misha meets his question with a sigh.

“Jensen … get in your car, go to that address. Goodbye.”

The line goes dead.

He stares at his phone, heart racing, breath stuck in his throat, _his wife_ —crawling out of her skin to know what the fuck is going on.

“Jensen! If you don’t tell me what he said, I sweat to Go—”

“He wants me to go to the address” Jensen finally croaks.

Danneel’s face goes through about twenty different emotions while Jensen still can’t even comprehend one. “Why? Where is it? Did he say anything else? Oh! Oh, is this a GISH thing?”

Her excitement over that last possibility gives Jensen a sense of dread in return, because the tiny bit of hope that was blooming in his chest at the start of all this, is suddenly dashed to pieces. _It probably is a GISH thing,_ he thinks to himself. It’s probably some crazy, stupid scavenger hunt item that he’s going to be dumb enough participate in, just because the man he loves _told him to._

“Well, go! Go now!” Danneel says, breaking him from his thoughts as she shoves him off his barstool.

“ _Okay_ ” he hisses, looking down once more at the Texas address Misha had sent him—trying to remember what’s out that way, but his mind is drawing blanks.

Danneel hurries him along by getting his coat, mask, wallet and keys, and she practically throws him into Baby so he can get on the road; and it’s not until he’s halfway across town that he thinks— _he probably should’ve taken the truck._

People are honking their horns on the highway, and one girl hangs out her window and waves at him as he drives by. Jensen waves back out of habit; but his mind is exactly thirty-eight point five miles away (according to his phone’s GPS) and wondering what the hell will be waiting for him once he gets there.

The tall Austin buildings fade in his rearview, and soon, farm houses and long lines of trees etch out the property lines and fields around him. The roads narrow and empty, until he feels like he’s the only one in the world that’s behind the wheel right now. He feels like he’s the only person around _at all_ —and part of him hopes that that’s true because his heart is simply too fragile to be ambushed by a cohort of fans.

His GPS counts down the miles until he only has five more to go, and he takes a deep breath, trying to hold it for the rest of the drive.

Dilapidated gates and discarded tires speckle the sides of the road, and as far as he can tell, there’s not anything out here … or _anyone;_ and with one mile left, he finally exhales, thinking that he just might be safe.

_Maybe this isn’t a GISH thing._

“Your destination is on the left” his GPS announces, so he turns left onto a thin, dirt driveway. In the distance, he can see an old, rundown farmhouse, and as he drives closer … he can see someone sitting on the steps leading up to its porch.

His heart stills in his chest, and his throat closes as he pulls up behind the only other car that’s there.

Misha is grinning at him from the stairs.

“Mish?” Jensen says, barely a whisper because he still hasn’t taken another breath yet.

The man stands up—a soft blue shirt bringing out the softness in his eyes, and the color pulls Jensen from his car without him even being aware that he’s moving.

“Misha?” he says again, louder now but still breathless and unsure of what he’s seeing.

“You were right” Misha calls out, his voice spanning the distance to the driveway. “We didn’t try hard enough.”

“Wh-what?” Jensen mutters, inching closer, scared to move too fast because he might scare this beautiful dream away.

Misha waits until Jensen is in front of him—and then he speaks again. “I talked to Vicki, and even though we can’t move down here full time, she suggested we still look for a place … for the summers, and for holidays— _whenever_ we’re free.” He’s squinting with the sun in his face and his hair is flitting in the breeze, and Jensen can’t help but stare at him—trying to take in his words, take in his body, take in the fact that he’s actually _here_.

“You… you …?” Jensen looks around them, his ability to form sentences or even a coherent thought must’ve been left out on the main road. His head feels as empty as this farmland.

“I bought this place” Misha finishes for him, and then he drops down a step until he’s so close, Jensen can smell him—and he smells just the same as he always did, earthy and wild and _intoxicating_. “I took a chance—so, I bought this place.”

“You … _bought it?_ ”

Misha nods, placing his hands on his hips, seeming to have just truly accepted the words himself. “Yeah … I did” he sighs, and then the he catches Jensen’s gaze and holds it, his eyes—blue coins, tossed down his well to grant this wish. “I may not be able to save the world, Jensen; but I can save _us_.”

His chest heaves, his heart races and his body tilts forward, finally falling back into its rhythm, letting him know he’s alive. And the realization allows the tears to fall as his fears fall away; so, he climbs that last step to bring him back into Misha’s arms, crossing the threshold into this dream he didn’t dare have.

Misha’s lips are as soft as he remembers, and his touch is as healing as Castiel’s was to Dean. He _is_ the angel on Jensen’s shoulder. He is his savior, his protector, his _more profound bond_ ; and as Jensen prays to him with every press of his fingers—Misha holds his own truth in the space between their bodies.

“I—I have something …” Misha laughs, attempting to break away again but Jensen isn’t letting him go.

He pulls Misha down, kissing him harder and loving him more than he ever thought he could.

“Jen—Jensen, _wait_ ” Misha cuts, in, still grinning as he backs away; and Jensen whines—not ready to stop touching him yet.

_He'll never be ready._

Misha turns to walk up the steps, eventually reaching into a canvas bag that’s resting on the edge of the porch. He digs around a moment and then pulls out a wood plaque, turning back so he can show it to Jensen.

Jensen tears dry as he watches him closely, unable to tear his eyes away; but Misha makes him when he pushes the plaque into his hands. Jensen looks down at it, recognizing Misha’s handiwork immediately. There, in white oak with copper edging, are delicately carved letters spelling out: _Faith Ranch est: 2020._

“I know it’s corny,” Misha laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks tint as pink as his freshly kissed lips, “but Vicki kept telling me to _take a leap of faith_ —and, that just stuck in my brain. And then I found _this_ _place_ online three days ago, bought it sight-unseen, and have been working non-stop ever since to find a way to get down here to pick up the keys. I _did_ have time to make this though. I thought it would be a nice way to christen the place.”

Jensen is speechless as he runs his hands over the sanded wood, looking between _it_ and Misha, and then back again, feeling like at any moment, he could wake up and realize that none of this was real.

“When you called me …” he says, voice lower now making Jensen have to lean in to hear him, “I realized that I could never find normalcy in being apart from you; whether we were _involved_ or not … I need you in my life, Jensen.”

A strangled cry creeps of from his throat as Jensen continues to stand there— _speechless_.

“Well … say something” Misha chuckles nervously. “Tell me I’m not crazy for doing this. Tell me that you love this big romantic gesture. Tell me—”

Jensen is kissing him again, hoping that it might say everything that he can’t … but, Misha isn’t letting him off the hook that easily.

“ _Jensen_ …” he huffs, pulling back again and seeming more serious now.

With a sigh, Jensen closes his eyes and finally settles on this all being _true_ , even if it seems too good to be. “You are crazy” he says quietly—his mouth hovering just a breath away from Misha’s lips. “And, you know I’m not one for big, romantic gestures…”

The Texas sun glows gold on his skin as Misha frowns.

But as Jensen looks into all that blue, diving in head first—wholly ready to drown, he smiles. “But _this_ …” he looks up to the porch and then across the house to the fields that stretch out to the horizon, “ _well …_ it’s about time we had a little _Faith_ in 2020.”

Misha laughs, rolling his eyes to the sky—whites and blues meeting in the middle, heaven and earth, marrying with sweet music. “Wow … never mind. _You’re_ the corny one.”

Jensen grins, breathing this moment in and letting it fill him—healing all his hollow points and soothing all his pain. “And you’re perfect” he whispers, kissing Misha again. “ _This_ is perfect.”

 _And it was_ , because it would be where their families made shared-memories, where their kids could play together as _siblings_ , and where _they_ could be free to love and live without fear that the eyes of the world were on them. This little ranch out in the middle of nowhere was _everywhere_ Jensen wanted to be—now and forever.

This place is his miracle; and with Misha— _here_ in his arms, this place is keeping his faith alive. They are going to take this leap _together_ , hand in hand, because they now have a soft place to land afterwards … _here_ , in the golden fields of wheat and cotton.

Here, on the crumbling concrete steps of an old farmhouse—they found their faith in each other, and _Faith finally found them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and for sticking with this story over the years. I have loved creating a world between the moments we've actually been lucky enough to witness. Jensen and Misha are two extremely special people to me, and I love and respect them and their families with my whole heart.
> 
> If you want to read more of my work, check out the rest of my [Ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me) and follow me on Tumblr at [Castiel-Left-His-Mark-On-Me](https://castiel-left-his-mark-on-me.tumblr.com).
> 
> **The stunning art included in this fic was created by the kind and talented[LiArtEz](https://liart-ez.tumblr.com). Also follow their Instagram [@liart_ez](https://instagram.com/liart_ez?igshid=3mp8p7hu5yz8)!!!**

**Author's Note:**

> **Critical comments are more than welcome. If you see areas where my writing can improve, or would like to call attention to my errors, please do. I welcome the feedback!**


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